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Public Library
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KANSAS CITY, MO PUBLIC LIBRARY
D ODD1
DATE DUE
DEC 3i &
xfc
Mi 11 2
The CONFESSIONS of
ST. AUGUSTINE
CONFESSIONS <?/
ST. AUGUSTINE
^Translated and Annotated by
J. G. Pilkington^ M. A., with
Biographical Introduction
NEW YORK LlVERIGHT PUBLISHING CORP.
&$
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
LIVERIGHT PUBLISHING CORPORATION
*
BLACK AND GOLD EDITION
OCTOBER, 1943
*
Manufactured
in the* United States of America
TO HIS MOTHER,
THIS TRANSLATION,
CONTAINING THE RECORD OF A MOTHER'S
DEVOTION TO HER SON,
IS DEDICATED
BY THE TRANSLATOR
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE
"TF St. Augustine," says Nourrisson, "had left nothing
JL but his Confessions and the City of God, one could
readily understand the respectful sympathy that surrounds
his memory. How, indeed, could one fail to admire in the
City of God the flight of genius, and in the Confessions,
what is better still, the effusions of a great soul?" It may be
safely predicted, that while the mind of man yearns for
knowledge, and his heart seeks rest, the Confessions will
retain that foremost place in the world's literature which it
has secured by its sublime outpourings of devotion and
profound philosophical spirit. There is in the book a won-
derful combination of childlike piety and intellectual power.
Desjardins' idea, that, while in Augustine's other works we
see the philosopher or the controversialist, here we see the
man, is only to be accepted as a comparative statement of
Augustine's attitude in the Confessions ; for philosophy and
piety are in many of his reflections as it were molten into
one homogeneous whole. In his highest intellectual flights
we find the breathings of faith and love, and amid the pro-
foundest expressions of penitential sorrow, gleams of his
metaphysical genius appear.
It may, indeed, be from the man's showing himself so
little, as distinguished from the philosopher, that some
readers are a little disappointed in the book. They have
expected to meet with a copiousness of biographic details,
vili TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE
and have found, commingled with such as are given, long
disquisitions on Manichxanism, Time, Creation., and Mem-
ory. To avoid such disappointment we must ascertain the
author's design. The book is emphatically not an autobiog-
raphy. There is in it an outline of the author's life up to
his mother's death 5 but only so much of detail is given as
may subserve his main purpose. That purpose is clearly
explained in the fourth section of his Tenth Book. It was
that the impenitent on reading it might not say, "I cannot,"
and "sleep in despair," but rather that, looking to that God
who had raised the writer from his low estate of pride and
sin to be a pillar of the Church, he might take courage, and
"awake in the sweetness of His grace, by which he that is
weak is made strong j" and that those no longer in sin might
rejoice and praise God as they heard of the past lusts of
him who was now freed from them. This, his design of
encouraging penitence and stimulating praise, is referred to
in his Retractations y and in his Letter to Darius.
These two main ideas are embodied in the very meaning
of the title of the book, the word confession having, as
Augustine constantly urges, two meanings. In his exposition
of the Psalms we read: "Confession is understood in two
senses, of our sins, and of God's praise. Confession of our
sins is well known, so well known to all the people, that
whenever they hear the name of confession in the lessons,
whether it is said in praise or of sin, they beat their breasts."
Again: "Confession of sin all know, but confession of praise
few attend to." "The former but showeth the wound to
the physician, the latter giveth thanks for health." He
would therefore have his hearers make the sacrifice of
praise their ideal, since, in the City of God, even in the
New Jerusalem, there will be no longer confession of sin ?
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE ix
but there will be confession of praise. It is not surprising,
that with this view of confession he should hinge on the
incidents of his life such considerations as tend to elevate
the mind and heart of the reader. When, for example, he
speaks of his youthful sins, he diverges into a disquisition
on the motives to sin; when his friend dies, he moralizes
on death; and to give one example of a reverse process
his profound psychological review of memory recalls his
former sin (which at times haunts him in his dreams), and
leads up to devout reflections on God's power to cleanse
from sin. This undertone of penitence and praise which
pervades the Confessions in all its episodes, like the golden
threads which run through the texture of an Eastern gar-
ment, presents one of its peculiar charms.
It would not be right to overlook a charge that has been
brought against the book by Lord Byron. He says, "Augus-
tine in his fine Confessions makes the reader envy his trans-
gressions." Nothing could be more reckless or further from
the truth than this charge. There is here no dwelling on
his sin, or painting it so as to satisfy a prurient imagination.
As we have already remarked, Augustine's manner is not
to go into detail further than to find a position from which
to "edify" the reader, and he treats this episode in his life
with his characteristic delicacy and reticence. His sin was
dead; and he had carried it to its burial with tears of re-
pentance. And when, ten years after his baptism, he sets
himself, at the request of some, to a consideration of what
he then was at the moment of making his confessions, he
refers hardly at all to this sin of his youth; and such allu-
sions as he does make are of the most casual kind. Instead
of enlarging upon it, he treats it as past, and only speaks
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE
of temptation and sin as they are common to all men. Many
of the French writers on the Confessions institute a com-
parison in this matter between the confessions of Augustine
and those of Rousseau. Pressense draws attention to the
delicacy and reserve which characterize the one, and the ar-
rogant defiance of God and man manifested in the other.
The confessions of the one he speaks of as "un grande acte
de repentir et d'amour;" and eloquently says, "In it he
seems, like the Magdalen, to have spread his box of per-
fumes at the foot of the Saviour j from his stricken heart
there exhales the incense most agreeable to God the hom-
age of true penitence." The other he truly describes as
uttering "a cry of triumph in the very midst of his sin, and
robing his shame in a royal purple." Well may Desjardins
express surprise at a book of such foulness coming from a
genius so great 5 and perhaps his solution of the enigma is
not far from the truth, when he attributes it to an over-
weening vanity and egotism.
It is right to point out, in connection with this part of
our subject, that in regard to some at least of Augustine's
self-accusations, there may be a little of that pious exag-
geration of his sinfulness which, as Lord Macaulay points
out in his essays on Bunyan, frequently characterizes deep
penitence. But however this may be, justice requires us to
remember, in considering his transgression, that from his
very childhood he had been surrounded by a condition of
civilization presenting manifold temptations. Carthage,
where he spent a large part of his life, had become, since
its restoration and colonization under Augustus Caesar, an
"exceeding great city," in wealth and importance next to
Rome. "African Paganism," says Pressense, "was half
Asiatic j the ancient worship of nature, the adoration of
TRANSLATOR^ PREFACE
Astarte, had full license in the city of Carthage, Dido had
become a mythological being, whom this dissolute tity had
made its protecting divinity, and it is easy to recognize in
her the great goddess of Phoenicia under a new name." The
luxury of the period is described by Jerome and Tertullian,
when they denounce the custom of painting the face and
tiring the head, and the prodigality that would give 25,000
golden crowns for a veil, immense revenues for a pair of
ear-rings, and the value of a forest or an island for a head-
dress. And Jerome, in one of his epistles, gives an illus-
tration of the Church's relation to the Pagan world at that
time, when he represents an old priest of Jupiter with his
grand-daughter, a catechumen, on his knee, who responds
to his caresses by singing canticles. It was a time when we
can imagine one of Augustine's parents going to the Colos-
seum, and enjoying the lasciviousness of its displays, and its
gladiatorial shows, with their contempt of human life; while
the other carefully shunned such scenes, as being under the
ban of the teachers of the Church. It was an age in which
there was action and reaction between religion and philos-
ophy j but in which the power of Christianity was so great
in its influences on Paganism, that some received the Chris-
tian Scriptures only to embody in their phraseology the
ideas of heathenism. Of this last point Manichseanism
presents an illustration. Now all these influences left their
mark on Augustine. In his youth he plunged deep into the
pleasures of his day 5 and we know how he endeavoured to
find in Manichseanism a solution of those speculations which
haunted his subtle and inquiring mind. Augustine at this
time, then, is not to be taken as a type of what Christianity
produced. He is to a great extent the outgrowth of the
Pagan influences of the time. Considerations such as these
xii TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE
may enable us to judge of his early sin more justly than
if we measured it by our own privileges and opportunities.
The style of Augustine is sometimes criticized as not hav-
ing the refinement of Virgil, Horace, or Cicero. But it
should be remembered that he wrote in a time of national
decay; and further, as Des jar dins has remarked in the in-
troduction to his essay, he had no time "to cut his phrases."
From the period of his conversion to that of his *death, he
was constantly engaged in controversy with this or that
heresy j and if he did not write with classical accuracy, he
so inspired the language with his genius, and moulded it
by his fire, that it appears almost to pulsate with the throb-
bings of his brain. He seems likewise to have despised mere
elegance, for in his Confessions, when speaking of the style
of Faustus, he says, "What profit to me was the elegance of
my cup-bearer, since he offered me not the more precious
draught for which I thirsted?" In this connection the re-
marks of Collinges are worthy of note. He says, when an-
ticipating objections that might be made to his own style: "It
was the last of my study f my opinion always was that what
Augustine calls diligens negligentia was the best diligence as
to that 5 while I was yet a very young man I had learned
out of him that it was no solecism in a preacher to use ossum
for os, for (saith he) an iron key is better than one made
of gold if it will better open the door, for that is all the use
of the key. I had learned out of Hierom that a gaudry
of phrases and words in a pulpit is but signum insi-pientitz.
The words of a preacher, saith he, ought *pungere non ^al-
$are, to prick the .heart, not to smooth and coax. The work
of an orator is too precarious for a minister of the gospel.
Gregory observed that our Saviour had not styled us the
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE xiii
sugar but the salt of the earth, and Augustine observeth,
that though Cyprian in one epistle showed much of a florid
orator, to show he could do it, yet he never would do so
any more, to show he would not."
There are several features in the Confessions deserving
of remark, as being of special interest to the philosopher,
the historian, or the divine. N
i . Chief est amongst these is the intense desire for knowl-
edge and the love of truth which characterized Augustine.
This was noticeable before his conversion in his hungering
after such knowledge as Manichaeanism and the philosophy
of the time could afford. It is none the less observable in
that better time, when, in his quiet retreat at Cassisiacum,
he sought to strengthen the foundations of his faith, and
resolved to give himself up to the acquisition of divine
knowledge. It was seen, too, in the many conflicts in which
he was engaged with Donatists, Manichasans, Arians, and
Pelagians, and in his earnest study of the deep things of
God. This love of knowledge is perhaps conveyed in the
beautiful legend quoted by Nourrisson, of the monk
wrapped in spirit, who expressed astonishment at not seeing
Augustine among the elect in heaven. "He is higher up,"
he was answered, "he is standing before the Holy Trinity
disputing thereon for all eternity."
While from the time of his conversion we find him hold-
ing on to the fundamental doctrines of the faith with the
tenacity of one who had experienced the hollowness of the
teachings of philosophy, this passion for truth led him to
handle most freely subjects of speculation in things non-
essential. But whether viewed as a controversialist, a stu-
dent of Scripture, or a bishop of the Church of God, he
xiv TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE
ever manifests those qualities of mind and heart that gained
for him not only the affection of the Church, but the esteem
of his unorthodox opponents. To quote Guizot's discrimi-
nating words, there was in him "ce melange de passion et
de douceur, d'autorite et de sympathie, d'etendue d'esprit
et de rigueur logique, qui lui donnait un si rare pouvoir."
2. It is to this eager desire for truth in his many-sided
mind that we owe those trains of thought that read like
forecasts of modern opinion. We have called attention to
some such anticipations of modern thought as they recur in
the notes throughout the book; but the speculations on
Memory, Time, and Creation, which occupy so large a space
in Books Ten and Eleven, deserve more particular notice*
The French essayists have entered very fully into these
questions. M. Saisset, in his admirable introduction to the
Da Civitate Dei ) reviews Augustine's theories as to the mys-
terious problems connected with the- idea of Creation. He
says, that in his subtle analysis of Time, and in his attempt
at reconciling "the eternity of creative action with the de-
pendence of things created, ... he has touched with a bold
and delicate hand one of the deepest mysteries of the human
mind, and that to all his glorious titles he has added another,
that of an ingenious psychologist and an eminent meta-
physician." Desjardins likewise commends the depths of
Augustine's speculations as to Time, and maintains that no
one's teaching as to Creation has shown more clearness, bold-
ness, and vigour, avoiding the perils of dualism on the one
hand, and atheism on the other. In his remarks on Augus-
tine's disquisitions on the phenomena of Memory, his praise
is of a more qualified character. He compares his theories
with those of Malebranche, and, while recognizing the prac-
tical and animated character of his descriptions, thinks him
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE xv
obscure in his delineation of the manner in which absent
realities reproduce themselves on the memory.*
We have had occasion in the notes to refer to the Unseen
Universe. The authors of this powerful "Apologia" for
Christianity propose it chiefly as an antidote to the ma-
terialistic disbelief in the immortality of the soul amongst
scientific men, which has resulted in this age from the recent
advance in physical science 5 just as in the last century Eng-
lish deism had its rise in a similar influence. It is curious,
in connection with this part of our subject, to note that in
leading up to the conclusion at which he arrives, M. Saisset
quotes a passage from the City of God, which contains an
adumbration of the theory of the above work in regard to
the eternity of the invisible universe. Verily, the saying
of the wise man is true: "The thing that hath been, it is
that which shall be 5 and that which is done, is that which
shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun."
3. We have already, in a previous paragraph, briefly
adverted to the influence Christianity and Paganism had one
on the other. The history of Christianity has been a steady
advance on Paganism and Pagan philosophy; but it can
hardly be denied that in this advance there has been an
absorption and in some periods in no small degree of
some of their elements. As these matters have been ex-
amined in the notes, we need not do more than refer the
reader to the Index of Subjects for the evidence to be ob-
* Nourrisson's criticism of Augustine's views on Memory may well be com-
pared with that of Desjardins. He speaks of the powerful originality of
Augustine, who is ingenious as well as new, and says some of his dis-
quisitions are "the most admirable which have inspired psychological observa-
tion." And further, "One does not meet in all the books of St. Augustine
any philosophical theories which have greater depth than that on Memory."
Philosophic, i. 133.
xvi TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE
tained in this respect from the Confessions on such matters
as Baptism, False Miracles, and Prayers for the Dead.
4. There is one feature in the Confessions which we
should not like to pass unnoticed. A reference to the Re-
tractations will show that Augustine highly appreciated the
spiritual use to which the book might be put in the edifica-
tion of the brethren. We believe that it will prove most
useful in this way; and spiritual benefit will accrue in pro-
portion to the steadiness of its use. We would venture to
suggest that Book X., from section 37 to the end, may be
profitably used as a manual of self-examination. We have
pointed out in a note, that in his comment on the 8th Psalm
he makes our Lord's three temptations to be types of all the
temptations to which man can be subjected 5 and makes them
correspond in their order, as given by St. Matthew, to "the
Lust of the Flesh, the Lust of the Eyes, and the Pride of
Life," mentioned by St. John. Under each of these heads
we have, in this part of the Confessions, a most severe ex-
amination of conscience 5 and the impression is deepened by
his allegorically likening the three divisions of temptation
to the beasts of the field, the fish of the sea, and the birds
of the air. We have already remarked, in adverting to al-
legorical interpretation, that where "the strict use of the
history is not disregarded," to use Augustine's expression,
allegorizing, by way of spiritual meditation, may be profit-
able. Those who employ it with this idea will find their
interpretations greatly aided, and made more systematic,
by realizing Augustine's methods here and in the last two
books of the Confessions, as when he makes the sea to
represent the wicked world, and the fruitful earth the
Church.
It only remains to call attention to the principles on which
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE xvii
this translation and its annotations have been made. The
text of the Benedictine edition has been followed} but the
head-lines of the chapters are taken from the edition of
Bruder, as being the more definite and full After care-
fully translating the whole of the book, it has been com-
pared, line by line, with the translation of Watts (one of the
most nervous translations of the seventeenth century), and
that of Dr. Pusey, which is confessedly founded upon that
of Watts. Reference has also been made, in the case of
obscure passages, to the French translation of Du Bois, and
the English translation of the first Ten Books. The refer-
ences to Scripture are in the words of the Authorized Ver-
sion wherever the sense will bear itj and whenever note-
worthy variations from our version occur, they are indicated
by references to the old Italic version, or to the Vulgate.
J, G. P.
ST. MARK'S VICARAGE, WEST HACKNEY
[1876]
CONTENTS
TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE ....... . vii
INTRODUCTION xxxv
BOOK FIRST
COMMENCING WITH THE INVOCATION OF GOD, AUGUSTINE RELATES IN DE-
TAIL THE BEGINNING OF HIS LIFE, HIS INFANCY AND BOYHOOD UP TO
HIS FIFTEENTH YEAR; AT WHICH AGE HE ACKNOWLEDGES THAT HE WAS
MORE INCLINED TO ALL YOUTHFUL PLEASURES AND VICES THAN TO THE
STUDY OF LETTERS.
PAGE
CHAPTER i. He proclaims the greatness of God, whom he desires to seek
and invoke, being awakened by Him, I
CHAPTER n. That the God whom we invoke is in us, and we in Him, . a
CHAPTER m. Everywhere God wholly filleth all things, but neither heaven
nor earth containeth Him, 3
CHAPTER iv. The majesty of God is supreme, and His virtues inex-
plicable, 3
CHATTER v. He seeks rest in God, and pardon of his sins, . . 4
CHAPTER vi. He describes his infancy, and lauds the protection and
eternal providence of God, ., 5
CHAPTER vii. He shows by examples that even infancy is prone to sin, 8
CHAPTER vin. That when a boy he learned to speak, not by any set
method, but from the acts and words of his parents, 10
CHAPTER ix. Concerning the hatred of learning, the love of play, and
the fear of being whipped noticeable in boys; and of the folly of
our elders and masters, n
CHAPTER x. Through a love of ball-playing and shows, he neglects his
studies and the. injunctions of his parents, 13
CHAPTER xi. Seized by disease, his mother being troubled, he earnestly
demands baptism, which on recovery is postponed^-his father not as
yet believing in Christ, 14
CHAPTER xn. Being compelled, he gave his attention to learning, but
fully acknowledges that this was the work of God, 15
CHAPTER xni. He delighted in Latin studies, and the empty fables of
the poets, but hated the elements of literature and the Greek
language, .16
CHAPTER xiv. Why he despised Greek literature, and easily learned Latin, 18
CHAPTER xv, He entreats God, that whatever useful things he learned
as a boy may be dedicated to Him, 19
XX CONTENTS
PACE
CHAPTER xvi. He disapproves of the mode of educating youth, and he
points out why wickedness is attributed to the gods by the poets, 20
CHAPTER xvn. He continues on the unhappy method of training youth
in literary subjects, . . . . . . * . .21
CHAPTER xvm. Men desire to observe the rules of learning, but neglect
the eternal rules of everlasting safety, a a
BOOK SECOND
HE ADVANCES TO PUBERTY, AND INDEED TO THE EARLY PART OF THE SIX-
TEENTH YEAR OF HIS AGE, IN WHICH, HAVING ABANDONED HIS STUDIES,
HE INDULGED IN LUSTFUL PLEASURES, AND, WITH HIS COMPANIONS.
COMMITTED THEFT.
CHAPTER i. He deplores the wickedness of his youth, . . . .27
CHAPTER n. Stricken with exceeding grief, he remembers the dissolute
passions in which, in his sixteenth year, he used to indulge, . . 27
CHAPTER HI. Concerning his father, a freeman of Thagaste, the assister
of his son's studies, and on the admonitions of his mother on the
preservation of chastity, 29
CHAPTER rv. He commits theft with his companions, not urged on by *
poverty, but from a certain distaste for well-doing, . . .32
CHAPTER v. Concerning the motives to sin, which are not in the love
of evil, but in the desire of obtaining the property of others, . . 33
CHAPTER vi. Why he delighted in that theft, when all things which
under the appearance of good invite to vice, are true and perfect
in God alone, 35
CHAPTER vn. He gives thanks to God for the remission of his sins, and
reminds every one that the Supreme God may have preserved us
from greater sins, ,.....,... 37
CHAPTER vm. In his theft he loved the company of his fellow-sinners, 38
CHAPTER ix. It was a pleasure to him also to laugh when seriously
deceiving others, .......... 39
CHAPTER x. With God there is true rest and life unchanging, . . 40
BOOK THIRD
OF THE SEVENTEENTH, EIGHTEENTH, AND NINETEENTH YEARS OF HIS AGE,
PASSED AT CARTHAGE, WHEN, HAVING COMPLETED HIS COURSE OP
STUDIES, HE IS CAUGHT IN THE SNARES OF A LICENTIOUS PASSION, AND
FALLS INTO THE SNARES OF THE MANICH^EANS.
CHAPTER i. Deluded by an insane love, he, though foul and dishon-
ourable, desires to be thought elegant and urbane, .... 41
CONTENTS XXI
PAGE
CHAPTER n. In public spectacles he is moved by an empty compas-
sion. He is attacked by a troublesome spiritual disease, ... 42
CHAPTER m. Not even when at church does he suppress his desires.
In the School of Rhetoric he abhors the acts of subverters, . . 44
CHAPTER iv. In the nineteenth year of his age (his father having died
two years before) he is led by the Hortensius of Cicero to philoso-
phy, to God, and a better mode of thinking, 45
CHAPTER v. He rejects the Sacred Scriptures as too simple, and as not
to be compared with the dignity of Tully, ..... 47
CHAPTER vi. Deceived by his own fault, he falls into the errors of the
Manichasans, who gloried in the true knowledge of God, and in a
thorough examination of things, ....... 47
CHAPTER vn. He attacks the doctrine of the Manichaeans concerning
evil, God, and the righteousness of the patriarchs, .... 50
CHAPTER vm. He argues against the same as to the reason of offences, . 53
CHAPTER ix. That the judgment of God and men as to human acts of
violence is different, ......... 55
CHAPTER x. He reproves the triflings of the Manichaeans as to the fruits
of the earth, 56
CHAPTER xi. He refers to the tears and the memorable dream concern-
ing her son, granted by God to his mother, ..... 57
CHAPTER xn. The excellent answer of the bishop when referred to by
his mother as to the conversion of her son, ..... 58
BOOK FOURTH
THEN FOLLOWS A PERIOD OF NINE YEARS FROM THE NINETEENTH YEAR
OF HIS AGE, DURING WHICH, HAVING LOST A FRIEND, HE FOLLOWED
THE MANICHAEANS AND WROTE BOOKS ON THE FAIR AND FIT, AND
PUBLISHED A WORK ON THE LIBERAL ARTS, AND THE CATEGORIES OF
ARISTOTLE.
CHAPTER i. Concerning that most unhappy time in which he, being de-
ceived, deceived others, and concerning the mockers of his confession, 60
CHAPTER n. He teaches rhetoric, the only thing he loved, and scorns
the soothsayer who promised him victory, ..... 61
CHAPTER ra. Not even the most experienced men could persuade him
of the vanity of astrology, to which he was devoted, . . .62
CHAPTER iv. Sorely distressed by weeping at the death of his friend,
he provides consolation for himself, ...... 64
CHAPTER v. Why weeping is pleasant to the wretched, .... 66
CHAPTER vi. His friend being snatched away by death, he imagines
that he remains only as half, ....... 67
XX11 CONTENTS
PAGE
CHAPTER vn. Troubled by restlessness and grief, he leaves Ms country
a second time for Carthage, ........ 68
CHAPTER vm, That his grief ceased by time, and the consolation of
friends, ........... 69
CHAPTER ix. That the love of a human being, however constant in
loving and returning love, perishes; while he who loves God never
loses a friend, ........... 70
CHAPTER x. That all things exist that they may perish, and that we are
not safe unless God watches over us, . . . . . 71
CHAPTER xi. That portions of the world are not to be loved; but that
God, their Author, is immutable, and His word eternal, . . .72
CHAPTER xn. Love is not condemned, but love in God, in whom there
is rest through Jesus Christ, is to be preferred, .... 73
CHAPTER xin. Love originates from grace and beauty enticing us, . 75
CHAPTER xrv. Concerning the books which he wrote "on the Fair and
Fit," dedicated to Hierius, . . . . . . . 75
CHAPTER xv. While writing, being blinded by corporeal images, he
failed to recognize the spiritual nature of God, .... 77
CHAPTER xvi. He very easily understood the liberal arts and the cate-
gories of Aristotle, but without true fruit, 80
BOOK FIFTH
HE DESCRIBES THE TWENTY-NINTH YEAR OF HIS AGE, IN WHICH, HAVING
DISCOVERED THE FALLACIES OF THE MANIOELEANS, HE PROFESSED RHET-
ORIC AT ROME AND MILAN. HAVING HEARD AMBROSE, HE BEGINS TO
COME TO HIMSELF,
CHAPTER i. That it becomes the soul to praise God, and to confess
unto Him, 83
CHAPTER n. On the vanity of those who wish to escape the Omnipotent
God, 84
CHAPTER m. Having heard Faustus, the most learned bishop- of the
Manichaens, he discerns that God, the Author both of things ani-
mate and inanimate, chiefly has care for the humble, ... 85
CHAPTER TV. That the knowledge of terrestrial and celestial things does
not give happiness, but the knowledge of God only, . . .87
CHAPTER v. Of Manichaeus pertinaciously teaching false doctrines, and
proudly arrogating to himself the Holy Spirit, .... 88
CHAPTER vi. Faustus was indeed an elegant speaker, but knew nothing
of the liberal sciences, ......... 90
CHAPTER vn. Clearly seeing the fallacies of the Manichaeans, he retires
from them, being remarkably aided by God, ..... 93
CONTENTS XX111
PAGE
CHAPTER vin. He sets out for Rome, his mother in vain lamenting it, . 94
CHAPTER ix. Being attacked by fever, he is in great danger, ... 96
CHAPTER x. When he had left the Manichaeans, he retained his depraved
opinions concerning God, sin, and the origin of the Saviour, . . 98
CHAPTER xi. Helpidius disputed well against the Manichseans as to the
authenticity of the New Testament, ...... 101
CHAPTER xn. Professing rhetoric at Rome, he discovers the fraud of
his scholars, ........... 102
CHAPTER xur. He is sent to Milan, that he, about to teach rhetoric,
may be known by Ambrose, ........ 103
CHAPTER xiv. Having heard the Bishop, he perceives the force of the
Catholic faith, yet doubts, after the manner of the modern Academics, 104
BOOK SIXTH
ATTAINING HIS THIRTIETH YEAR, HE, UNDER THE ADMONITION OF THE
DISCOURSES OF AMBROSE, DISCOVERED MORE AND MORE THE TRUTH OF
THE CATHOLIC DOCTRINE, AND DELIBERATES AS TO THE BETTER REGU-
LATION OF HIS LIFE.
CHAPTER i. His mother having followed him to Milan, declares that
she will not die before her son shall have embraced the Catholic
faith, 106
CHAPTER n. She, on the prohibition of Ambrose, abstains from hon-
ouring the memory of the martyrs, ...... 107
CHAPTER m. As Ambrose was occupied with business and study, Augus-
tine could seldom consult him concerning the Holy Scriptures, . . 109
CHAPTER iv. He recognizes the falsity of his own opinions, and com-
mits to memory the saying of Ambrose, in
CHAPTER v. Faith is the basis of human life; man cannot discover that
truth which Holy Scripture has disclosed, 113
CHAPTER vi. On the source and cause of true joy, the example of the
joyous beggar being adduced, . . . . . . .115
CHAPTER vn. He leads to reformation his friend Alypius, seized with
madness for the Circensian games, 117
CHAPTER vni. The same when at Rome, being led by others into the
Amphitheatre, is delighted with the gladiatorial games, . . .119
CHAPTER ix. Innocent Alypius, being apprehended as a thief, is set at
liberty by the cleverness of an architect, . . . . .121
CHAPTER x. The wonderful integrity of Alypius in judgment. The last-
ing friendship of Nebridius with Augustine, . . . . .123
XXIV CONTENTS
7AOB
CHAPTER xi. Being troubled by his grievous errors, he meditates enter-
ing on a new life, ......... 125
CHAPTER xn. Discussion with Alypius concerning a life of celibacy, . 127
CHAPTER xm. Being urged by his mother to take a wife, he sought
a maiden that was pleasing unto him, 129
CHAPTER xrv. The design of establishing a common household with his
friends is speedily hindered, . .129
CHAPTER xv. He dismisses one mistress, and chooses another, . . 130
CHAPTER xvi. The fear of death and judgment called him, believing
in the immortality of the soul, back from his wickedness, him who
aforetime believed in the opinions of Epicurus, . . . .131
BOOK SEVENTH
HE RECALLS THE BEGINNING OF HIS YOUTH, i.e. THE THIRTY-FIRST YEAR
OF HIS AGE, IN WHICH VERY GRAVE ERRORS AS TO THE NATURE OF
GOD, AND THE ORIGIN OF EVIL, BEING DISTINGUISHED, AND THE SA-
CRED BOOKS MORE ACCURATELY KNOWN, HE AT LENGTH ARRIVES AT
A CLEAR KNOWLEDGE OF GOD, NOT YET RIGHTLY APPREHENDING
JESUS CHRIST.
CHAPTER i. He regarded not God, indeed, under the form of a human
body, but as a corporeal substance diffused through space, . . 133
CHAPTER n, The disputation of Nebridius against the Manichseans on
the question, "Whether God be corruptible or incorruptible," . . 135
CHAPTER in. That the cause of evil is the free judgment of the will, . 136
CHAPTER rv. That God is not corruptible, who, if He were, would not
be God at all, 138
CHAPTER v. Questions concerning the origin of evil in regard to God,
who, since He is the chief good, cannot be the cause of evil, , . 139
CHAPTER vi. He refutes the divinations of the astrologers deduced from
the constellations, . . . . . . . . .141
CHAPTER vn. He is severely exercised as to the origin of evil, . . 144
CHAPTER vm. By God's assistance he by degrees arrives at the truth, . 146
CHAPTER rx. He compares the doctrine of -the Platonists concerning the
A6yo3 with the much more excellent doctrine of Christianity, . . 146
CHAPTER x. Divine things are the more clearly manifested to him who
withdraws into the recesses of his heart, . . . . .149
CHAPTER xi. That creatures are mutable and God alone immutable, . 150
CHAPTER xn. Whatever things the good God has created are very good, 150
CONTENTS XXV
CHAPTER xm. It is meet to praise the Creator for the good
which are made in heaven and earth, . . . . . .151
CHAPTER xrv. Being displeased with some part of God's creation, he
conceives of two original substances, 152
CHAPTER xv. Whatever is, owes its being to God, . . . . 153
CHAPTER xvi. Evil arises not from a substance, but from the perver-
sion of the will, .......... 153
CHAPTER xvir. Above his changeable mind, he discovers the unchange-
able Author of Truth, ......... 154
CHAPTER xvni. Jesus Christ, the Mediator, is the only way of safety, . 155
CHAPTER xix. He does not yet fully understand the saying of John,
"That the Word was made flesh," 156
CHAPTER xx. He rejoices that he proceeded from Plato to the Holy
Scriptures, and not the reverse, ....... 158
CHAPTER xxi. What he found in the sacred books which are riot to
be found in Plato, i$g
BOOK EIGHTH
HE FINALLY DESCRIBES THE THIRTY-SECOND YEAR OF HIS AGE, THE MOST
MEMORABLE OF HIS WHOLE LIFE, IN WHICH, BEING INSTRUCTED BY
SIMPHCIANUS CONCERNING THE CONVERSION OF OTHERS, AND THE
MANNER OF ACTING, HE IS, AFTER A SEVERE STRUGGLE, RENEWED IN
HIS WHOLE MIND, AND IS CONVERTED UNTO GOD.
CHAPTER i. He, now given to divine things, and yet entangled by the
lusts of love, consults Simplicianus in reference to the renewing
of his mind, ........... 161
CHAPTER n. The pious old man rejoices that he read Plato and the
Scriptures, and tells him of the rhetorician Victorinus having been
converted to the faith through the reading of the sacred books, . 163
CHAPTER m. That God and the angels rejoice more on the return of
one sinner than of many just persons, . , . . . .166
CHAPTER iv. He shows by the example of Victorinus that there is more
joy in the conversion of nobles, . . . . . .168
CHAPTER v. Of the causes which alienate us from God, . . . .169
CHAPTER vi. Pontitianus' account of Antony, the founder of Monachism,
and of some who imitated him, . . . . . . .172
CHAPTER vn. He deplores his wretchedness, that having been born thirty-
two years, he had not >ct found the truth, 17$
XXVI CONTENTS
CHAPTER vrn. The conversation with Alypius being ended, he retires to
the garden, whither his friend follows him, 177
CHAPTER rx. That the mind commandeth the mind, but it willeth not
entirely, *79
CHAPTER x. He refutes the opinion of the Manichaeans as to two kinds
of minds, one good and the other evil, ..... 180
CHAPTER xi. In what manner the Spirit struggled with the flesh, that it
might be freed from the bondage of vanity, 185
CHAPTER xn. Having prayed to God, he pours forth a shower of tears,
and, admonished by a voice, he opens the book and reads the words
in Rom. xiii. 13; by which, being changed in his whole soul, he dis-
closes the divine favour to his friend and his mother, . . . 185
BOOK NINTH
HE SPEAKS OF HIS DESIGN OF FORSAKING THE PROFESSION OF RHETORIC;
OF THE DEATH OF HIS FRIENDS, NEBRIDIUS AND VERECUNDUS, OF
HAVING RECEIVED BAPTISM IN THE THIRTY-THIRD YEAR OF HIS AGE;
AND OF THE VIRTUES AND DEATH OF HIS MOTHER, MONICA.
CHAPTER i. He praises God, the author of safety, and Jesus Christ, the
Redeemer, acknowledging his own wickedness, . . . .188
CHAPTER n. As his lungs were affected, he meditates withdrawing himself
from public favour, . . . . . . . . .189
CHAPTER in, He retires to the villa of his friend Verecundus, who was
not yet a Christian, and refers to his conversion and death, as well as
that of Nebridius, .......... 191
CHAPTER iv. In the country he gives his attention to literature, and ex-
plains the fourth Psalm in connection with the happy conversion of
Alypius. He is troubled with toothache, . , . . . .193
CHAPTER v. At the recommendation of Ambrose, he reads the prophecies
of Isaiah, but does not understand them, ...... 198
CHAPTER vx. He is baptized at Milan with Alypius and his son Adeodatus.
The book De Magistro, . . . . . , . .198
CHAPTER vn. Of the Church hymns instituted at Milan; of the Ambro-
sian persecution raised by Justina; and of the discovery of the bodies
of two martyrs, .......... 199
CHAPTER vm. Of the conversion of Evodius; and the death of his
mother when returning with him to Africa; and whose education
he tenderly relates, 201
CHAPTER rs. He describes the praiseworthy habits of his mother; her
kindness towards her husband and her sons, ..... 204
CONTENTS XXVII
PAGE
CHAPTER x. A conversation he had with his mother concerning the king-
dom of heaven, .......... 207
CHAPTER xc. His mother, attacked by fever, dies at Ostia, . . .209
CHAPTER xn. How he mourned his dead mother, . . .211
CHAPTER xra. He entreats God for her sins, and admonishes his readers
to remember her piously, 214
BOOK TENTH
HAVING MANIFESTED WHAT HE WAS AND WHAT HE IS, HE SHOWS THE GREAT
FRUIT OF HIS CONFESSION; AND BEING ABOUT TO EXAMINE BY WHAT
METHOD GOD AND THE HAPPY LIFE MAY BE FOUND, HE ENLARGES ON
THE NATURE AND POWER OF MEMORY. THEN HE EXAMINES HIS OWN
ACTS, THOUGHTS, AND AFFECTIONS, VIEWED UNDER THE THREEFOLD
DIVISION OF TEMPTATION; AND COMMEMORATES THE LORD, THE ONE
MEDIATOR OF GOD AND MEN.
CHAPTER i. In God alone is the hope and joy of man, . . .218
CHAPTER XL That all things are manifest to God. That confession unto
Him is not made by the words of the flesh, but of the soul, and the
cry of reflection, . . . . . . . . . .218
CHAPTER nr. He who confesseth rightly unto God best knoweth himself, 219
CHAPTER iv. That in his Confessions he may do good, he considers
others, 221
CHAPTER v. That man knoweth not himself wholly, . . . .222
CHAPTER vi. The love of God, in His nature superior to all creatures,
is acquired by the knowledge of the senses and the exercise of reason, 223
CHAPTER vn. That God is to be found neither from the powers of the
body nor of the soul, ......... 226
CHAPTER vm. Of the nature and the amazing power of memory, . .226
CHAPTER ix. Not only all things, but also literature and images, are
taken from the memory, and are brought forth by the act of re-
membering, ........... 229
CHAPTER x. Literature is not introduced to the memory through the
senses, but is brought forth from its more secret places, . . 230
CHAPTER xi. What it is to learn and to think, 231
CHAPTER xn. On the recollection of things mathematical, . . .232
CHAPTER xm. Memory retains all things, 233
CHAPTER xiv. Concerning the manner in which joy and sadness may be
brought back to the mind and memory, 233
XXV111 CONTENTS
PAGE
CHAPTER xv, In memory there are also images of things which are
absent, 23$
CHAPTER xvi. The privation of memory is forgetfulness, . . .236
CHAPTER xvn. God cannot be attained unto by the power of memory,
which beasts and birds possess, 338
CHAPTER xvm. A thing when lost could not be found unless it were
retained in the memory, ........ 339
CHAPTER xix. What it is to remember, 240
CHAPTER xx. We should not seek for God and the happy life unless we
had known it, .......... 241
CHAPTER xxi. How a happy life may be retained in the memory, . 242
CHAPTER xxn. A happy life is to rejoice in God, and for God, . . 244
CHAPTER xxm. All wish to rejoice in the Truth, .... 244
CHAPTER xxiv. He who finds truth, finds God, ..... 246
CHAPTER xxv. He is glad that God dwells in his memory, . . . 246
CHAPTER xxvi. God everywhere answers those who take counsel of Him, 247
CHAPTER xxvn. He grieves that he was so long without God, . . 247
CHAPTER xxvm. On the misery of human life, ..... 248
CHAPTER xxix. All hope is in the mercy of God, .... 249
CHAPTER xxx. Of the perverse images of dreams, which he wishes to
have taken away, .......... 249
CHAPTER xxxi. About to speak of the temptations of the "lust of the
flesh," he first complains of the lust of eating and drinking, . .251
CHAPTER xxxu. Of the charms of perfumes which are more easily over-
come, 255
CHAPTER xxxm. He overcame the pleasures of the ear, although in the
church he frequently delighted in the song, not in the thing sung, . 255
CHAPTER xxxrv. Of the very dangerous allurements of the eyes; on
account of beauty of form, God, the Creator, is to be praised, . . 257
CHAPTER xxxv. Another kind of temptation is curiosity, which is stimu-
lated by the "lust of the eyes," 259
CHAPTER xxxvi. A third kind is "pride," which is pleasing to man, not
to God, ............ 262
CHAPTER xxxvn. He is forcibly goaded on by the love of praise, . .264
CHAPTER xxxvra. Vain-glory is the highest danger, . . . .367
CHAPTER xxxix. Of the vice of those who, while pleasing themselves,
displease God, .......... 367
CONTENTS XXIX
PAGE
CHAPTER XL. The only safe resting-place for the soul is to be found in
God, 268
CHAPTER XLI. Having conquered his triple desire, he arrives at salvation, 269
CHAPTER XLII. In what manner many sought the Mediator, . .269
CHAPTER XLm. That Jesus Christ, at the same time God and man, is the
true and most efficacious Mediator, . . . . . .270
BOOK ELEVENTH
THE DESIGN OF HIS CONFESSIONS BEING DECLARED, HE SEEKS FROM GOD
THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE HOLY SCRIPTURES, AND BEGINS TO EXPOUND
THE WORDS OF GENESIS I. 1, CONCERNING THE CREATION OF THE WORLD.
THE QUESTIONS OF RASH DISPUTERS BEING REFUTED, "WHAT DID GOD
BEFORE HE CREATED THE WORLD?" THAT HE MIGHT THE BETTER OVER-
COME HIS OPPONENTS, HE ADDS A COPIOUS DISQUISITION CONCERNING
TIME.
CHAPTER i. By confession he desires to stimulate towards God His own
love and that of his readers, . . . . . . .273
CHAPTER n. He begs of God, that through the Holy Scriptures he may
be led to truth, 274
CHAPTER m. He begins from the creation of the world, not under-
standing the Hebrew text, . . . . . . . .276
CHAPTER iv. Heaven and earth cry out that they have been created by
God, 277
CHAPTER v. God created the world not from any certain matter, but in
His own word, .......... 277
CHAPTER vi. He did not, however, create it by a sounding and passing
word, ............ 278
CHAPTER vn. By His co -eternal Word He speaks, and all things are
done, 270
CHAPTER vin. That Word itself is the beginning of all things, in the
which we are instructed as to evangelical truth, . . . .280
CHAPTER ix. Wisdom and the Beginning, ...... 281
CHAPTER x. The rashness of those who inquire what God did before
He created heaven and earth, ....... 282
CHAPTER xi. They who ask this have not as yet known the eternity of
God, which is exempt from the relation of time, .... 282
CHAPTER xn. What God did before the creation of the world, . .283
CHAPTER xra. Before the time created by God, times were not, . . 284
XXX CONTENTS
PACE
CHAPTER xiv. Neither time past nor future, but the present, only
really is, 285
CHAPTER xv. There is only a moment of present time, . . .286
CHAPTER xvi. Time can only be perceived or measured while it is
passing, ............ 288
CHAPTER xvn. Nevertheless there is time past and future, . . .288
CHAPTER xvm. Past and future times cannot be thought of but as
present, ......... 289
CHAPTER xix. We are ignorant in what manner God teaches future
things, ............ 291
CHAPTER xx. In what manner time may properly be designated, . 291
CHAPTER xxi. How time may be measured, 292
CHAPTER xxn. He prays God that He would explain this most entangled
enigma, ............ 292
CHAPTER xxin. That time is a certain extension, , . . . 293
CHAPTER xxrv. That time is not a motion of the body which we measure
by time, 295
CHAPTER xxv. He calls on God to enlighten his mind, . . .296
CHAPTER xxvi. We measure longer events by shorter in time, . . 297
CHAPTER xxvn. Times are measured in proportion as they pass by, . 298
CHAPTER xxvni. Time in the human mind, which expects, considers,
and remembers, .......... 301
CHAPTER xxix. That human life is a distraction, but that, through the
mercy of God, he was intent on the prize of his heavenly calling, 302
CHAPTER xxx, Again he refutes the empty question, "What did God
before the creation of the world?" ...... 303
CHAPTER xxxi. How the knowledge of God differs from that of man, 303
BOOK TWELFTH
HE CONTINUES HIS EXPLANATION OF THE FIRST CHAPTER OF GENESIS AC-
CORDING TO THE SEPTUAGINT, AND BY ITS ASSISTANCE HE ARGUES,
ESPECIALLY, CONCERNING THE DOUBLE HEAVEN, AND THE FORMLESS
MATTER. OUT OF WHICH THE WHOLE WORLD MAY HAVE BEEN CREATED;
AFTERWARDS OF THE INTERPRETATIONS OF OTHERS NOT DISALLOWED,
AND SETS FORTH AT GREAT LENGTH THE SENSE OF THE HOLY SCRIPTURE-
CHAPTER i. The discovery of truth is difficult, but God has promised
that he who seeks shall find 305
CONTENTS XXXI
PAGE
CHAPTER n. Of the double heaven, the visible, and the heaven of
heavens, 305
CHAPTER in. Of the darkness upon the deep, and of the invisible and
formless earth, 306
CHAPTER rv. From the formlessness of matter, the beautiful world has
arisen, 307
CHAPTER v. What may have been the form of matter, . . . 307
CHAPTER vi. He confesses that at one time he himself thought errone-
ously of matter, 307
CHAPTER vn. Out of nothing God made heaven and earth, . .309
CHAPTER vni. Heaven and earth were made "in the beginning;" after-
wards the world, during six days, from shapeless matter, . .310
CHAPTER ix. That the heaven of heavens was an intellectual creature,
but that the earth was invisible and formless before the days that
it was made, .......... 311
CHAPTER x. He begs of God that he may live in the true light, and
may be instructed as to the mysteries of the sacred books, . .311
CHAPTER xi. What may be discovered to him by God, . . .312
CHAPTER XIL From the formless earth, God created another heaven
and a visible and formed earth, . . . . . . .314
CHAPTER xm. Of the intellectual heaven and formless earth, out of
which on another day the firmament was formed, . . . 315
CHAPTER xiv. Of the depth of the Sacred Scriptures, and its enemies, 316
CHAPTER xv. He argues against adversaries concerning the heaven of
heavens, ........... 316
CHAPTER xvi. He wishes to have no intercourse with those who deny
Divine Truth, 3*9
CHAPTER xvn. He mentions five explanations of the words of Genesis i. i, 320
CHAPTER xvni. What error is harmless in Sacred jScripture, , . 322
CHAPTER xix. He enumerates the things concerning which all agree, 323
CHAPTER xx. Of the words, "in the beginning," variously understood, 324
CHAPTER xxi. Of the explanation of the words, "The earth was
invisible," 325
CHAPTER xxn. He discusses whether matter was from eternity, or was
made by God, 326
CHAPTER xxm. Two kinds of disagreements in the books to be explained 328
CHAPTER xxiv. Out of the many true things, it is not asserted confi-
, dently that Moses understood this or that, 3 3 *
XXXH CONTENTS
PACW
CHAPTER xxv. It behooves interpreters, when disagreeing concerning
obscure places, to regard God the Author of truth, and the rule of
charity, ........... 329
CHAPTER xxvi. What he might have asked of God had he been enjoined
to write the book of Genesis, ....... 331
CHAPTER xxvn. The style of speaking in the book of Genesis is simple
and clear, ........... 333
CHAPTER xxvin. The words, "In the beginning," and, "The heaven and
the earth," are differently understood, 333
CHAPTER xxix. Concerning the opinion of those who explain it, "At first
He made," 335
CHAPTER xxx. In the great diversity of opinions, it becomes all to unite
charity and Divine Truth, . . . . . . . * 337
CHAPTER xxxi, Moses is supposed to have perceived whatever of truth
can be discovered in his words, ....... 33$
CHAPTER XXXH. First, the sense of the writer is to be discovered, then
that is to be brought out which Divine Truth intended, . . . 338
BOOK THIRTEENTH
OF THE GOODNESS OF GOD EXPLAINED IN THE CREATION OF THINGS, AND
OF THE TRINITY AS FOUND IN THE FIRST WORDS OF GENESIS. THE
STORY CONCERNING THE ORIGIN OF THE WORLD (GEN. I.) IS ALLE-
GORICALLY EXPLAINED, AND HE APPLIES IT TO THOSE THINGS WHICH
GOD WORKS FOR SANCTIFIED AND BLESSED MAN. FINALLY, HE MAKES
AN END OF THIS WORK. HAVING IMPLORED ETERNAL REST FROM GOD.
CHAPTER I. He calls upon God, and proposes to himself to worship Him, 340
CHAPTER n. All creatures subsist from the plenitude of divine goodness, 341
CHAPTER in. Genesis i. 3, Of "light," he understands as it is seen in
the spiritual creature, ......... 342
CHAPTER rv. All things have been created by the grace of God, and are
not of Him as standing in need of created things, .... 343
CHAPTER v. He recognizes the Trinity in the first two verses of Genesis, 343
CHAPTER vi, Why the Holy Ghost should have been mentioned after the
mention of heaven and earth, ....... 344
CHAPTER vn. That the Holy Spirit brings us to God, . . . 345
CHAPTER vm. That nothing whatever, short of God, can yield to the
rational creature a happy rest, ....... 346
CHAPTER rx. Why the Holy Spirit was only "borne over" the waters, 346
CHAPTER x. That nothing arose save by the gift of God, , . , 347
CONTENTS XXXIH
PACK
CHAPTER xi. That the symbols of the Trinity in man, To Be, To Know,
and To Will, are never thoroughly examined, .... 348
CHAPTER xn. Allegorical explanation of Genesis, chap. L, concerning the
origin of the Church and its worship, ...... 349
CHAPTER xra. That the renewal of man is not completed in this world 350
CHAPTER xrv. That out of the children of the night and of the darkness,
children of the light and of the day are made, . . . . 351
CHAPTER xv. Allegorical explanation of the firmament and upper works,
ver. 6, 352
CHAPTER xvi. That no one but the Unchangeable Light knows himself, 354
CHAPTER xvn. Allegorical explanation of the sea and the fruit-bearing
earth, verses 9-11, 3S5
CHAPTER xvm. Of the lights and stars of heaven of day and night,
ver. 14, 356
CHAPTER xix. All men should become lights in the firmament of heaven, 358
CHAPTER xx. Concerning reptiles and flying creatures (ver. 20), the
sacrament of Baptism being regarded, ...... 360
CHAPTER xxi. Concerning the living soul, birds and fishes (ver. 24),
the sacrament of the Eucharist being regarded, .... 361
CHAPTER xxii. He explains the divine image (ver. 26) of the renewal of
the mind, 364
CHAPTER xxni. That to have power over all things (ver. 26) is to judge
spiritually of all, 365
CHAPTER xxrv. Why God has blessed men, fishes, flying creatures, and
not herbs and the other animals (ver. 28), 367
CHAPTER xxv. He explains the fruits of the earth (ver. 29) of works
of mercy, 370
CHAPTER xxvi. In the confessing of benefits, computation is made not
as to the "gift," but as to the "fruit," that is, the good and right
will of the giver, 371
CHAPTER xxvn. Many are ignorant as to this, and ask for miracles,
which are signified under the names of "fishes" and "whales," . - 374
CHAPTER xxvru. He proceeds to the last verse, "All things are very-
good," that is, the work being altogether good, . . . -374
CHAPTER xxix. Although it is said eight times that "God saw that it was
good," yet time has no relation to God and His Word, . . .375
CHAPTER xxx. He refutes the opinions of the Manichaeaiis and the
Gnostics concerning the origin of the world, . . . . 37^
CHAPTER xxxi. We do not see "that it was good," but through the Spirit
af God* which is in us, 376
XXXIV CONTENTS
PAGE
CHAPTER xxxn. Of the particular works of God, more especially of man, 378
CHAPTER xxxm, The world was created by God out of nothing, . 379
CHAPTER xxxiv. He briefly repeats the allegorical interpretation of
Genesis (chap. i.) and confesses that we see it by the Divine Spirit, 379
CHAPTER xxxv. He prays God for that peace of rest which hath no
evening, 381
CHAPTER xxxvi. The seventh day, without evening and setting, the
image of eternal life and rest in God, 381
CHAPTER xxxvn. Of rest in God, who ever worketh, and yet is ever
at rest, 381
CHAPTER xxxvni. Of the difference between the knowledge of God and
of men, and of the repose which is to be sought from God only, 382
NOTES . 383
INDEX < <> * . 401
INTRODUCTION
AUGUSTINE, SAINT (354-430), one of the four great
Fathers of the Latin Church. Augustinus the ^roenomen
Aurelius is used indeed by his disciples Orosius and Prosper,
and is found in the oldest Augustine Mss., but is not used by
himself, nor in the letters addressd to him was born at
Tagaste, a town of Numidia, now Suk Ahras in Constantine,
on the 1 3th of November 354. His father, Patricius, was a
burgess of Tagaste and still a pagan at the time of his son's
birth. His mother, Monica, was not only a Christian, but a
woman of the most tender and devoted piety, whose beautiful
faith and enthusiasm and patient prayer for both her husband
and son (at length crowned with success in both cases) have
made her a type of womanly saintliness for all ages. She
early instructed her son in the faith and love of Jesus Christ,
and for a time he seems to have been impressed by her teach-
ing. Falling ill, he wished to be baptized 5 but when the
danger was past, the rite was deferred and, in spite of his
mother's admonitions and prayers, Augustine grew up with-
out any profession of Christian piety or any devotion to
Christian principles.
Inheriting from his father a passionate nature, he formed
while still a mere youth an irregular union with a girl, by
whom he became the father of a son, whom in a fit of pious
emotion he named Adeodatus ("by God given"), and to
whom he was passionately attached. In his Confessions he
afterwards described this period of his life in the blackest col-
ours j for in the light of his conversion he saw behind him
XXXVI INTRODUCTION
only shadows. Yet, whatever his youthful aberrations, Au-
gustine was from the first an earnest student. His father,
noticing his early promise, destined him for the brilliant and
lucrative career of a rhetorician, for which he spared no ex-
pense in training him. Augustine studied at his native town
and afterwards at Madaura and Carthage, especially devoting
himself to the works of the Latin poets, many traces of his
love for which are to be found in his writings. His ac-
quaintance with Greek literature was much more limited,
and, indeed, it has been doubted, though without sufficient
reason, whether he could use the Greek scriptures in the
original. Cicero's Hortensius y which he read in his nine-
teenth year, first awakened in his mind the spirit of specula-
tion and the impulse towards the knowledge of the truth.
But he passed from one phase of thought to another, unable
to find satisfaction in any. Manichasism, that mixed product
of Zoroastrian and Christian-gnostic elements, first en-
thralled him. He became a fervent member of the sect, and
was admitted into the class of auditors or "hearers." Mani-
chaeism seemed to him to solve the mysteries of the world,
and of his own experiences by which he was perplexed. His
insatiable imagination drew congenial food from the fanciful
religious world of the Manichseans, decked out as this was
with the luxuriant wealth of Oriental myth. His strongly
developed sense of a need of salvation sought satisfaction in
the contest of the two principles of Good and Evil, and
found peace, at least for the moment, in the conviction that
the portions of light present in him would be freed from the
darkness in which they were immersed. The ideal of chas-
tity and self-restraint, which promised a foretaste of union
with God, amazed him, bound as he was in the fetters of
sensuality and for ever shaking at these fetters. But while
INTRODUCTION XXXV11
his moral force was not sufficient for the attainment of this
ideal, gradually everything else which Manichseism seemed
to offer him dissolved before his criticism. Increasingly oc-
cupied with the exact sciences, he learnt the incompatibility
of the Manichxan astrology with the facts. More and more
absorbed in the problems of psychology, he realized the in-
sufficiency of dualism, which did not solve the ultimate ques-
tions but merely set them back. The Manichaean propa-
ganda seemed to him invertebrate and lacking in force, and
a discussion which he had with Faustus, a distinguished
Manichxan bishop and controversialist, left him greatly
disappointed.
Meanwhile nine years had passed. Augustine, after
finishing his studies, had returned to Tagaste, where he be-
came a teacher of grammar. He must have been an excel-
lent master, who knew how to influence the whole person-
ality of his pupils. It was then that Alypius, who in the
later stages of Augustine y s life proved a true friend and
companion, attached himself to him. He remained in his
native town little more than a year, during which time he
lived with his mother, who was comforted by the bishop for
the estrangement of her son from the Catholic faith ("a son
of so many tears cannot be lost": Confess. III. xii. 2,1),
comforted also, and above all, by the famous vision, which
Augustine thus describes: "She saw herself standing on a
certain wooden rule, and a shining youth coming towards
her, cheerful and smiling upon her the while she grieved, and
was consumed with grief: and when he had inquired of her
the causes of her grief and daily tears (for the sake, as is their
wont, of teaching, not of learning) and she had made an-
swer that she was bewailing my perdition, he bade her be at
ease, and advised her to look and observe, 'That where she
XXXV111 INTRODUCTION"
was, there was I also.' And when she looked there, she saw
me standing by her on the same rule" (Confess. III. xL).
Augustine now returned for a second time to Carthage, where
he devoted himself zealously to work. Thence, probably
in the spring of 383, he migrated to Rome. His Mani-
chsean friends urged him to take this step, which was ren-
dered easier by the licentious lives of the students at
Carthage. His stay at Rome may have lasted about a year,
no agreeable time for Augustine, since his patrons and friends
belonged to just those Manichsean circles with which he had
in the meantime entirely lost all intellectual touch. He>
therefore, accepted an invitation from Milan, where the
people were in search of a teacher of rhetoric.
At Milan the conflict within his mind in search of truth
still continued. It was now that he separated himself
openly from the Manichasan sect. As a thinker he came en-
tirely under the influence of the New Academy ; he pro-
fessed the Sceptic philosophy, without being able to find in it
the final conclusion of wisdom. He was, however, not far
from the decision. Two things determined his further de-
velopment. He became acquainted with the Neo-Platonic
philosophy ^ its monism replaced the dualism, its intellectual-
ized world of ideas the materialism of Manidmsm. Here
he found the admonition to seek for truth outside the ma-
terial world, and from created things he learnt to recognize
the invisible God; he attained the certainty that this God is ?
and is eternal, always the same, subject to change neither in
his parts nor in his motions. And while thus Augustine's
metaphysical convictions were being slowly remodelled, he
met, in Ambrose, bishop of Milan, a man in whom complete
worldly culture and the nobility of a ripe Christian person-
ality were wonderfully united He heard him preach j but
INTRODUCTION XXXIX
at first it was the orator and not the contents of the sermons
that enchained him. He sought an opportunity of conver-
sation with him, but this was not easily found. Ambrose had
no leisure for philosophic discussion. He was accessible to
all who sought him, but never for a moment free from
study or the cares of duty. Augustine, as he himself tells us,
used to enter without being announced, as all persons might $
but after staying for a while, afraid of interrupting him,
he Would depart again. He continued, however, to hear
Ambrose preach, and gradually the gospel of divine truth
and grace was received into his heart. He was busy with his
friend Alypius in studying the Pauline epistles 5 certain
words were driven home with irresistible force to his con-
science. His struggle of mind became more and more in-
tolerable, the thought of divine purity fighting in his heart
with the love of the world and the flesh. That sensuality
was his worst enemy he had long known. The mother of his
child had accompanied him to Milan, When he became be-
trothed he dismissed her; but neither the pain of this parting
nor consideration for his not yet marriageable bride pre-
vented him from forming a fresh connexion of the same
kind. Meanwhile, the determination to renounce the old
life of its pleasures of sense was ever being forced upon
him with more and more distinctness. He then received a
visit from a Christian compatriot named Pontitian, who told
him about St. Anthony and the monachism in Egypt, and
also of a monastery near Milan. He was shaken to the
depths when he learnt from Pontitian that two young of-
ficials, like himself betrothed, had suddenly formed a de-
termination to turn their backs upon the life of the world.
He could no longer bear to be inside the house; in terrible
excitement he rushed into the garden; and now followed
INTRODUCTION
that scene which he himself in the Confessions has described
to us with such graphic realism. He flung himself under a
fig tree, burst into a passion of weeping, and poured out
his heart to God. Suddenly he seemed to hear a voice bid-
ding him consult the divine oracle: "Take up and read, take
up and read." He left off weeping, rose up, sought the vol-
ume where Alypius was sitting, and opening it read in silence
the following passage from the Epistle to the Romans
(xiii. 13, 14) : "Not in rioting and drunkenness, not in cham-
bering and wantonness, not in strife and envying. But put
ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make not provision for the
flesh to fulfil the lusts thereof." He adds: "I had neither
desire nor need to read further. As I finished the sentence,
as though the light of peace had been poured into the heart,
all the shadows of doubt dispersed. Thus hast Thou con-
verted me to Thee, so as no longer to seek either for wife or
other hope of the world, standing fast in that rule of faith in
which Thou so many years before hadst revealed me to my
mother" (in qua me ante tot annos ei r&velaveras : Confess.
VIII. xii. 30) /
The conversion of Augustine, as we have been accustomed
to call this event, took place in the late summer of 386, a
few weeks before the beginning of the vacation. The de-
termination to give up his post was rendered easier by a
chest-trouble which was not without danger, and which for
months made him incapable of work. He withdrew with
several companions to the country estate of Cassisiacum near
Milan, which had been lent him by a friend, and announced
himself to the bishop as a candidate for baptism. His re-
ligious opinions were still to some extent unformed, and even
his habits by no means altogether such as his great change
reference is to the vision described above.
INTRODUCTION
demanded. He mentions, for example, that during this time
he broke himself of a habit of profane swearing, and in other
ways sought to discipline his character and conduct for the
reception of the sacred rite. He received baptism the Easter
following, in his thirty-third year, and along with him his
son Adeodatus and his friend Alypius were admitted to the
Church. Monica, his mother, had rejoined him, and at
length rejoiced in the fulfilment of her prayers. She died
at Ostia, just as they were about to embark for Africa, her
last hours being gladdened by his Christian sympathy. In
the account of the conversation which he had with his mother
before her end, in the narrative of her death and burial
{Confess. IX. x.-xi., 23-28), Augustine's literary power
is displayed at its highest.
The plan of returning home remained for the present un-
accomplished. Augustine stayed for a year in Rome, occu-
pied in literary work, particularly in controversy with Mani-
chseism. It was not until the autumn of 388 that he re-
turned to Tagaste, probably still accompanied by his son,
who, however, must have died shortly afterwards. With
some friends, who joined him in devotion, he formed a small
religious community, which looked to him as its head. Their
mode of life was not formally monastic according to any
special rule, but the experience of this time of seclusion was,
no doubt, the basis of that monastic system which Augustine
afterwards sketched and which derived its name from him
(see Augustinians) . As may be imagined, the fame of such
a convert in such a position soon spread, and invitations to
a more active ecclesiastical life came to him from many
quarters. He shrank from the responsibility, but his destiny
was not to be avoided. After two and a half years spent
in retirement he went to Hippo, to see a Christian friend,
INTRODUCTION
who desired to converse with him as to his design of quitting
the world and devoting himself to a religious life. The
Christian community there being in want of a presbyter and
Augustine being present at the meeting, the people unani-
mously chose him and he was ordained to the presbyterate.
A few years afterwards, 395 or 396, he was made coadjutor
to the bishop, and finally became bishop of the see.
Henceforth Augustine's life is filled up with his ecclesias-
tical labours, and is more marked by the series of his nu-
merous writings and the great controversies in which they
engaged him than by anything else. His life was spent in
perpetual strife. During the first half this had been against
himself: but even when others stepped into his place, it
always seems as though a part of Augustine himself were
incarnate in them, Augustine had early distinguished him-
self as an author. He had written several philosophical
treatises, and, as teacher of rhetoric at Carthage, he had
composed a work De fulchro et a$to y which is no longer
extant. When at Cassisiacum he had combated the scepticism
of the New Academy (Contra Academicos)^ had treated of
the "blessed life" (De Vita beata), of the significance of evil
in the order of the world (De or dine) ^ of the means for
the elucidation of spiritual truths (Soliloquia). Shortly be-
fore the time of his baptism, he was occupied with the ques-
tion of the immortality of the soul (De immortali&te ani-
md)i and in Rome and at Tagaste he was still engaged
with philosophical problems, as is evidenced by the writings
De quantltate animte and De magistro. In all these treatises
is apparent the influence of the Neo-Platonic method of
thought, which for him, as for so many others, had become
the bridge to the Christian. While still in Rome, he began
to come to a reckoning with the Manichxans, and wrote two
INTRODUCTION
books on the morals of the Catholic Church and of the
Manichseans (De moribus ecclesi& Catholics et de moribus
Mamchcerwn libri duo}. For many years he pursued this
controversy in a long series of writings, of which the most
conspicuous is the elaborate reply to his old associate and
disputant, Faustus of Mileve (Contra Ftmstum Mamchasum^
A.D. 400). It was natural that the Manichasan heresy, which
had so long enslaved his own mind, should have first ex-
ercised Augustine's great powers as a theological thinker and
controversialist. He was able from his own experience to
give force to his arguments for the unity of creation and of
the spiritual life, and to strengthen the mind of the Chris-
tian Church in its last struggle with that dualistic spirit which
had animated and moulded in succession so many forms of
thought at variance with Christianity.
But the time was one of almost universal ecclesiastical and
intellectual excitement} and so powerful a mental activity
as his was naturally drawn forth in all directions. Following
his writings against the Manichaeans came those against the
Donatists. The controversy was one which strongly inter-
ested him, involving as it did the whole question of the con-
stitution of the Church and the idea of catholic order, to
which the circumstances of the age gave special prominence.
The Donatist controversy sprang out of the Diocletian per-
secution in the beginning of the century. A party in the
Church of Carthage, fired with fanatic zeal on behalf of
those who had courted martyrdom by resistance to the im-
perial mandates, resented deeply the appointment of a bishop
of moderate opinions, whose consecration had been per-
formed, they alleged, by a traditor, viz. a bishop who had
"delivered" the holy scriptures to the magistrates. They
set up, in consequence, a bishop of their own, of the name
INTRODUCTION
of Majorinus, succeeded in 315 by Donatus. The party
made great pretensions to purity of discipline, and rapidly
rose in popular favour, notwithstanding a decision given
against them both by the bishop of Rome and by the emperor
Constantine. Augustine was strongly moved by the law-
lessness of the party and launched forth a series of writings
against them, the most important of which survive. Among
these are "Seven Books on Baptism" (De baptismo contra
Donatistas, c. A,D. 400) and a lengthy answer, in three books,
to Petilian, bishop of Cirta, who was the most eminent
theologian amongst the Donatist divines. At a later period,
about 417, Augustine wrote a treatise concerning the cor-
rection of the Donatists (De corrections Donatistarum) "for
the sake of those/' he says in his Retractations, "who were
not willing that the Donatists should be subjected to the
correction of the imperial laws." In these writings, while
vigorously maintaining the validity of the Church as it then
stood in the Roman world, and the necessity for moderation
in the exercise of church discipline, Augustine yet gave cur-
rency, in his zeal against the Donatists, to certain maxims
as to the duty of the civil power to control schism, which
were of evil omen and have been productive of much disaster
in the history of Christianity.
The third controversy in which Augustine engaged was
the most important, and the most intimately associated with
his distinctive greatness as a theologian. As may be sup-
posed, owing to the conflicts through which he had passed,
the bishop of Hippo was intensely interested in what may
be called the anthropological aspect of the great Christian
idea of redemption. He had himself been brought out of
darkness into "marvellous light" only by entering into the
depths of his own soul, and finding, after many struggles,
INTRODUCTION
that there was no power but divine grace, as revealed in the
life and death of the Son of God, which could bring rest to
human weariness, or pardon and peace for human guilt. He
had found human nature in his own case too weak and sinful
to find any good for itself. In God alone he had found good.
This deep sense of human sinfulness coloured all his the-
ology, and gave to it at once its depth its profound and
sympathetic adaptation to all who feel the reality of sin
and that tinge of darkness and exaggeration which has as
surely repelled others. When the expression "Augustinism"
is used, it points especially to those opinions of the great
teacher* which were evoked in the Pelagian controversy, to
which he devoted the most mature and powerful period of
his life. His opponents in this controversy were Pelagius,
from whom it derives its name, and Coelestius and Julianus,
pupils of the former. Nothing is certainly known as to the
home of Pelagius. Augustine calls him Brito, and so do
Marius Mercator and Orosius. Jerome points to his Scot-
tish descent, in such terms, however, as to leave it uncertain
whether he was a native of Scotland or of Ireland. He
was a man of blameless character, devoted to the reformation
of society, full of that confidence in the natural impulses of
humanity which often accompanies philanthropic enthusiasm.
About the year 400 he came, no longer a young man, to
Rome, where he lived for more than a decade, and soon
made himself conspicuous by his activity and by his opinions.
His pupil Coelestius, a lawyer of unknown origin, developed
the views of his master with a more outspoken logic, and,
while travelling with Pelagius in Africa, in the year 411, was
at length arraigned before the bishop of Carthage for the
following, amongst other heretical opinions: (i) that
Adam's sin was purely personal, and affected none but him-
INTRODUCTION
self j (2) that each man, consequently, is born with powers
as incorrupt as those o Adam, and only falls into sin under
the force of temptation and evil example; (3) that children
who die in infancy, being untainted by sin, are saved without
baptism. Views such as these were obviously in conflict with
the whole course of Augustine's experience, as well as with
his interpretation of the catholic doctrine of the Church.
And when his attention was drawn to them by the trial and
excommunication of Ccelestius, he undertook their refuta-
tion, first of all in three books on the punishment and for-
giveness of sins and the baptism of infants (De peccatomm
mentis et remissions et de baptismo <paruulorum) , addressed
to his friend Marcellinus, in which he vindicated the neces-
sity of baptism of infants because of original sin and the
grace of God by which we are justified (Retract, ii. 23).
This was in 412. In the same year he addressed a further
treatise to the same Marcellinus on The Spirit and the Letter
(De spiritu et littera). Three years later he composed the
treatises on Nature and Grace (De natura et gratia) and the
relation of the human to the divine righteousness (De <per-*
fectione iustitia? hominis). The controversy was continued
during many years in no fewer than fifteen treatises. Upon
no subject did Augustine bestow more of his intellectual
strength, and in relation to no other have his views so deeply
and permanently affected the course of Christian thought*
Even those who most usually agree with his theological
standpoint will hardly deny that, while he did much in these
writings to vindicate divine truth and to expound the true
relations of the divine and human, he also, here as elsewhere,
was hurried into extreme expressions as to the absoluteness
of divine grace and the extent of human corruption. Like
his great disciple in a later age Luther Augustine was
INTRODUCTION
prone to emphasize the side of truth which he had most
realized in his own experience, and, in contradistinction to the
Pelagian exaltation of human nature, to depreciate its capa-
bilities beyond measure.
In addition to these controversial writings, which mark
the great epochs of Augustine's life and ecclesiastical ac-
tivity after his settlement as a bishop at Hippo, he was the
author of other works, some of them better known and even
more important. His great work, the most elaborate, and in
some respects the most significant, that came from his pen,
is The City of God (De Civitate Dei}. It is designed as a
great apologetic treatise in vindication of Christianity and the
Christian Church, the latter conceived as rising in the form
of a new civic order on the crumbling ruins of the Roman
empire, but it is also, perhaps, the earliest contribution
to the philosophy of history, as it is a repertory throughout
of his cherished theological opinions. This work and his
Confessions are, probably, those by which he is best know%
the one as the highest expression of his thought, and the
other as the best monument of his living piety and Chris-
tian experience. The City of God was begun in 413, and
continued to be issued in its several portions for a period of
thirteen years, or till 426. The Confessions were written
shortly after he became a bishop, about 397, and gave a
vivid sketch of his early career. To the devout utterances
and aspirations of a great soul they add the charm of per-
sonal disclosure, and have never ceased to excite admiration
in all spirits of kindred piety. Something of this charm also
belongs to the Retractations, that remarkable work in which
Augustine, in 427, towards the end of his life, held as it
were a review of his literary activity, in order to improve
what was erroneous and to make clear what was doubtful in
INTRODUCTION
it. His systematic treatise on The Trinity (De Trinitate)
which extends to fifteen books and occupied him for nearly
thirty years, must not be passed over. This important work,
unlike most of his dogmatic writings, was not provoked by
any special controversial emergency, but grew up silently
during this long period in the author's mind. This has given
it something more of completeness and organic arrangement
than is usual with Augustine, if it has also led him into
the prolonged discussion of various analogies, more curious
than apt in their bearing on the doctrine which he expounds.
Brief and concise is the presentation of the Catholic doctrine
in the compendium, which, about 421, he wrote at the re-
quest of a Roman layman named Laurentius (Enchiridion^
sive de fide sfe et cantata). In spite of its title, the com-
pendious work on Christian doctrine (De doctrine Christiana) ,
begun as early as 393, but only finished in 426, does not be-
long to the dogmatic writings. It is a sort of Biblical
hermeneutic, in which homiletic questions are also dealt with.
His catechetical principles Augustine developed in the charm-
ing writing De catechizandis rudibus (c. 400) . A large num-
ber of tractates are devoted to moral and theological prob-
lems (Contra mendacitim, c. 4205 De bono conjugal^ 401,
&c.). A widespread influence was exercised by the treatise
De of ere monachorum (c. 400), in which, on the ground of
Holy Scripture, manual wark was demanded of monks. Of
less importance than the remaining works are the numerous
exegetical writings, among which the commentary on the
Gospel of St. John deserves a special mention. They have a
value owing to Augustine's appreciation of the deeper spirit-
ual meaning of scripture, but hardly for their exegetical
qualities. His Letters are full of interest owing to the light
they throw on many questions in the ecclesiastical history of
INTRODUCTION
the time, and owing to his relations with such contemporary
theologians as Jerome. They have, however, neither the
liveliness nor the varied interest of the letters of Jerome
himself. As a preacher Augustine was of great importance.
We still possess almost four hundred sermons which may be
ascribed to him with certainty. Many others only pass under
his celebrated name.
The closing years of the great bishop were full of sorrow.
The Vandals, who had been gradually enclosing the Roman
empire, appeared before the gates of Hippo, and laid siege
to it. Augustine was ill with his last illness, and could only
pray for his fellow-citizens. He passed away during the
siege, on the 28th of August 430, at the age of seventy-five,
and thus was spared the indignity of seeing the city in the
hands of the enemy.
The character of Augustine, both as a man and as a
theologian, has been briefly indicated in the course of our
sketch. None can deny the greatness of Augustine's soul
his enthusiasm, his unceasing search after truth, his affec-
tionate disposition, his ardour, his self-devotion. And even
those who may doubt the soundness of his dogmatic conclu-
sions, cannot but acknowledge the depth of his spiritual con-
victions, and the logical force and penetration with which he
handled the most difficult questions, thus weaving all the
elements of his experience and of his profound scriptural
knowledge into a great system of Christian thought. Of the
four great Fathers of the Church, he was admittedly the
greatest more profound than Ambrose, his spiritual father,
more original and systematic than Jerome, his correspondent,
and intellectually far more distinguished than Gregory the
Great, his pupil on the papal throne. The theological posi-
tion and influence of Augustine may be said to be unrivalled.
1 INTRODUCTION
No single name has ever exercised such power over the
Christian Church, and no one mind ever made so deep an
impression upon Christian thought. In his scholastics and
mystics, popes and the opponents of the papal supremacy,
have seen their champion. He was the fulcrum on which
Luther rested the thoughts by which he sought to lift the
past of the Church out of the rut; yet the judgment of
Catholics still proclaims the ideas of Augustine as the only
sound basis of philosophy.
From The Encyclof&dia Briumica*
THE THIRTEEN ...BOOKS-
OF THE
CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE
BOOK FIRST!
COMMENCING WITH THE INVOCATION OF GOD, AUGUSTINE RELATES IN
DETAIL THE BEGINNING OF HIS LIFE, HIS INFffi?Cl?^AN"BoS66K UP
TO HIS FTFrE*EKfTBTYEARf u AT WHICH AGE HE ACKNOWLEDGES THAT HE
WAS MORE INCLINED TO ALL YOUTHFUL PLEASURES AND VICES THAN
TO THE STUDY OF LETTERS.
} *' m
CHAP. I. \3e proclaims the greatness of Godylwhom he desires to
seek and invoke, being awakened- by Hint.
RE AT art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised ;
great is Thy power, and of Thy wisdom there is no
end. And man, being a part o Thy creation, desires to praise
Thee, man, who bears about with him his mortality, the
witness of his sin, even the witness that Thou a resistest the
proud," yet man, this part of Thy creation, desires to praise
Thee.* Thou movest us to delight in praising Thee 5 for
Thou hast formed us for Thyself, and our hearts are rest-
less till they find rest in Thee. Lord, teach me to know and
understand which of these should be first, to call on Thee,
or to praise Thee 5 and likewise to know Thee, or to call
upon Thee. But who is there that calls upon Thee without
knowing Thee? For he that knows Thee not may call upon
Thee as other than Thou art. Or perhaps we call on Thee
* Augustine begins with praise, and the whole book vibrates with praise. He
says elsewhere (in P$. cxlix.), that "as a new song fits not well an old man's
lips, he should sing a new song who is a new creature and is living a new life;"
and so from the time of his new birth, the "new song" of praise went up from
him and that "not of the lip only/' but (ibid, cxlviii.) comcienUa, lingua vita.
i
2 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK I.
that we may know Thee. "But how shall they call on Him
in whom they have not believed? or how shall they believe
without a preacher?" And those who seek the Lord shall
praise Him. For those who seek shall find Him, and
those who find Him shall praise Him. * Let me seek Thee,
Lord, in calling on Thee, and call on Thee in believing in
Thee| for Thou hast been preached unto us, O Lord, my
faith calls on Thee, that faith which Thou hast imparted
to me, which Thou hast breathed into me through the in-
carnation of Thy Son, through the ministry of Thy preacher.
CHAP. II. That the God kuhom we invoke is in us ^ and we In Him*
2. And how shall I call upon my God my God and
my Lord? Tor when I call on Him I ask Him to come
into me. And what place is there in me into which my God
can come into which God can come, even He who made
heaven and earth? e Is there anything in me, O Lord my
God, that can contain Thee? | Do indeed the very heaven
and the earth, which Thou hast made, and in which Thou
hast made me, contain Thee? Or, as nothing could exist
without Thee, doth whatever exists contain Thee? Why,
then, do I ask Thee to come into me, since I indeed exist,
and could not exist if Thou wert not in me?;,. Because I am
not yet in hell, though Thou art even there; for "if I go
down into hell Thou art there." I could not therefore exist,
could not exist at all, O my God, unless Thou wert in me.
Or should I not rather say, that I could not exist unless I
were in Thee from whom are all things, by whom are all
things, in whom are all things? Even so, Lord; even so.
Where do I call Thee to, since Thou art in me, or whence
canst Thou come into me? For where outside heaven and
CHAP. III.] GOD FILLETH ALL THINGS 3
earth can I go that from thence my God may come into
me who has said, "I fill heaven and earth"?
CHAP. in. Everywhere God! wholly filleth all things y but neither
, heaven nor earth containeth Him.
3. Since, then, Thou fillest heaven and earth, do they
contain Thee? Or, as they contain Thee not, dost Thou fill
them, and yet there remains something over? And where
dost Thou pour forth that which remaineth of Thee when
the heaven and earth are filled? Or, indeed, is there no
need that Thou who containest all things shouldest be con-
tained of any, since those things which Thou fillest Thou
fillest by containing them?(l/For the vessels whiqh Thou
fillest do not sustain Thee, since should they even be broken
Thou wilt not be poured forth/ And when Thou art poured
forth on us, Thou art not cast down, but we are uplifted 5
nor art Thou dissipated, but we are drawn together. But,
as /Thou fillest all things, idost Thou fill them with Thy
whole self, or, as even all things cannot altogether contain
Thee, do they contain a part, and do all at once contain the
same part? Or has each its own proper part the greater
more, the smaller less? Is, then, one part of Thee greater,
another less? Or is it that Thou art wholly * everywhere
whilst nothing altogether contains Thee?
CHAP. IV. The majesty^ of God Js supreme} and His virtues inex-
plicable.
4. What, then, art Thou, O my God what, I ask, but
the Lord God? ]Por who js Lord but thte Lord? or whq is
God save 6tii(God| ' Mosf%igh, most excellent, ni^st pofent,
most omnipotent 5 most piteous and most just 5 most hidden
4 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK I.
and most near ; most beauteous and most strong 5 stable,
yet contained of none; unchangeable, yet changing all
things j never new, never old, making all things new, yet
bringing old age upon the proud and they know it not 5
always working, yet ever at rest; gathering, yet needing
nothing 5 sustaining, pervading, and protecting 5 creating,
nourishing, and developing 5 seeking, and yet possessing all
things. Thou lovest, and burnest not; art jealous, yet
free from care; repentest, and hast no sorrow; art angry,
yet serene; changest Thy ways, leaving unchanged Thy
plans; recoverest what Thou findest, having yet never lost;
art never in want, whilst Thou rejoicest in gain; never
covetous, though requiring usury. That Thou mayest owe,
more than enough is given to Thee; yet who hath anything
that is not Thine? Thou payest debts while owing nothing;
and when Thou forgivest debts, losest nothing. Yet, O my
God, my life, my holy joy, what is this that I have said?
And what saith any man when He speaks of Thee? Yet
woe to them that keep silence,^ seeing that even they who
say most* are as the dumb. *
CHAP. v. ^BLe seeks rest in God > jond fiardon of his sins.
5. Oh! how shall I find rest in Thee? Who will send
Thee into my heart to inebriate it, so that I may forget my
woes, and embrace Thee, my only good? What art Thou
* "As it is impossible for mortal, imperfect, and perishable man to compre-
hend the immortal, perfect, and eternal, we cannot expect that he should be
able to express in praise the fulness of God's attributes. The Talmud relates of
a rabbi, who did not consider the terms, 'the great, mighty, and fearful God,'
which occur in the daily prayer, as being sufficient, but added some more at-
tributes 'What!' exclaimed another rabbi, who was present, 'imaginest thou to
be able to exhaust the praise of God? Thy praise is blasphemy. Thou hadst
better be quiet.' Hence the Psalmist's exclamation, after finding that the
praises of God were inexhaustible: 'Silence is praise to Thee.' " BRESLATT.
CHAP. VI.] HE ASKS PARDON OF GOD 5
to me? Have compassion on me, that I may speak. What
am I to Thee that Thou demandest my love, and unless I
give it Thee art angry, and threatenest me with great sor-
rows? Is it, then, a light sorrow not to love Thee? Alas!
alas! tell me of Thy compassion, O Lord my God, what
Thou art to me. "Say unto my soul, I am thy salvation."
So speak that I may hear. Behold, Lord, the ears of my
heart are before Thee; open Thou them, and "say unto my
soul, I am thy salvation." 3 When I hear, may I run and
lay hold on Thee. Hide not Thy face from me. Let me
die, lest I die, if only I may see Thy face.
6. Cramped is the dwelling of my soul; do Thou ex-
pand it, that Thou mayest enter in. It is in ruins, restore
Thou it. There is that about, it which must offend Thine
eyes 5 I confess and know it, but who will cleanse it? or
to whom shall I cry but to Thee? Cleanse me from my
secret sins, O Lord, and keep Thy servant from those of
other men. I believe, and therefore do I speak ; Lord,
Thou knowest. Have I not confessed my transgressions
unto Thee, O my God; and Thou has put away the iniquity
of my heart? I do not contend in judgment with Thee, who
art the Truth; and I would not deceive myself, lest my
iniquity lie against itself. I do not, therefore, contend in
judgment with Thee, for "if Thou, Lord, shouldest mark
iniquities, O Lord, who shall stand?"
CHAP, vi. He describes his Infancy , and lauds the protection and
eternal providence of God.
7. Still suffer me to speak before Thy mercy me, "dust
and ashes." Suffer me to speak, for, behold, it is Thy mercy
I address, and not derisive man. Yet perhaps even Thou
6 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK I.
deridest me; but when Thou art turned to me Thou wilt
have compassion on me. For what do I wish to say, O Lord
my God, but that I know not whence I came hither into
this shall I call it dying life or living death? Yet, as I
have heard from my parents, from whose substance Thou
didst form me, for I myself cannot remember it, Thy
merciful comforts sustained me. Thus it was that the com-
forts of a woman's milk entertained me ; for neither my
mother nor my nurses filled their own breasts, but Thou
by them didst give me the nourishment of infancy accord-
ing to Thy ordinance and that bounty of Thine which un-
derlieth all things. For Thou didst cause me not to want
more than Thou gavest, and those who nourished me wil-
lingly to give me what Thou gavest them. For they, by an
instinctive affection, were anxious to give me what Thou
hadst abundantly supplied. It was, in truth, good for them
that my good should come from them, though, indeed, it
was not from them, but by them $ for from Thee, O God,
are all good things, and from my God is all my safety. This
is what I have since discovered, as Thou hast declared Thy-
self to me by the blessings both within me and without me
which Thou hast bestowed upon me. For at that time I
knew how to suck, to be satisfied when comfortable, and
to cry when in pain nothing beyond.
8. Afterwards I began to laugh, at first in sleep, then
when waking. For this I have heard mentioned of myself,
and I believe it (though I cannot remember it), for we see
the same in other infants. And now little by little I realized
where I was, and wished to tell my wishes to those who
might satisfy them, but I could not! for my wants were
within me, while they were without, and could not by any
faculty of theirs enter into my soul. So I cast about limbs
CHAP. VI.] HIS INFANCY
and voice, making the few and feeble signs I could, like,
though indeed not much like, unto what 1 wished ; and
when I was not satisfied either not being understood, or
because it would have been injurious to me I grew in-
dignant that my elders were not subject unto me, and that
those on whom I had no claim did not wait on me, and
avenged myself on them by tears. That infants are such
1 have been able to learn by watching them; and they,
though unknowing, have better shown me that I was such
an one than my nurses who knew it.
9. And, behold, my infancy died long ago, and I live.
But Thou, O Lord, who ever livest, and in whom nothing
dies (since before the world was, and indeed before all that
can be called "before," Thou existest, and art the God and
Lord of all Thy creatures; and with Thee fixedly abide the
causes of all unstable things, the unchanging sources of all
things changeable^ and the eternal reasons of all things un-
reasoning and temporal), tell me, Thy suppliant, O God;
tell, O merciful One, Thy miserable servant tell me
whether my infancy succeeded another age of mine which
had at that time perished. Was it that which I passed in
my mother's womb? For of that something has been made
known to me, and I have myself seen women with child.
And what, O God, my joy, preceded that life? Was I,
indeed, anywhere, or anybody? For no one can tell me
these things, neither father nor mother, nor the experience
of others, nor my own memory. Dost Thou laugh at me
for asking such things, and command me to praise and con-
fess Thee for what I know?
10. I give thanks to Thee, Lord of heaven and earth,
giving praise to Thee for that my first being and infancy,
of which I have no memory; for Thou hast granted to
8 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK I.
man that from others he should come to conclusions as to
himself, and that he should believe many things concerning
himself on the authority of feeble women. Even then I
had life and being ; and as my infancy closed I was already
seeking for signs by which my feelings might be made
known to others. Whence could such a creature come but
from Thee, O Lord? Or shall any man be skilful enough
to fashion himself? Or is there any other vein by which
being and life runs into us save this, that "Thou, O Lord,
hast made us," with whom being and life are one, because
Thou Thyself art being and life in the highest? Thou art
the highest, "Thou changest not," neither in Thee doth
this present day come to an end, though it doth end in Thee,
since in Thee all such things are ; for they would have no
way of passing away unless Thou sustainedst them. And
since "Thy years shall have no end," Thy years are an ever
present day. And how many of ours and our fathers 7 days
have passed through this Thy day, and received from it their
measure and fashion of being, and others yet to come shall so
receive and pass away! "But Thou art the same 5" and all the
things of to-morrow and the days yet to come, and all of yes-
terday and the days that are past, Thou wilt do to-day, Thou
hast done to-day. What is it to me if any understand not?
Let him still rejoice and say, "What is this?" (i). Let him
rejoice even so, and rather love to discover in failing to
discover, than in discovering not to discover Thee.
CHAP. vir. He shows by examples that even infancy is 'prone to sin,
ii. Hearken, O God! Alas for the sins of men! Man
saith this, and Thou dost compassionate him; for Thou
didst create him, but didst not create the sin that is in
CHAP. VII.] HIS INFANCY PRONE TO SIN 9
him. Who bringeth to my remembrance the sin of my
infancy? For before Thee none is free from sin, not even
the infant which has lived but a day upon the earth. Who
bringeth this to my remembrance? Doth not each little one,
in whom I behold that which I do not remember of myself?
In what, then, did I sin? Is it that I cried for the breast?
If I should now so cry, not indeed for the breast, but for
the food suitable to my years, I should be most justly
laughed at and rebuked. What I then did deserved rebuke 5
but as I could not understand those who rebuked me,
neither custom nor reason suffered me to be rebuked. For
as we grow we root out and cast from us such habits. I have
not seen any one who is wise, when "purging" anything cast
away the good. Or was it good, even for a time, to strive
to get by crying that which, if given, would be hurtful
to be bitterly indignant that those who were free and its
elders, and those to whom it owed its being, besides many
others wiser than it, who would not give way to the nod of
its good pleasure, were not subject unto it to endeavour to
harm, by struggling as much as it could, because those com-
mands were not obeyed which only could have been obeyed
to its hurt? Then, in the weakness of the infant's limbs,
and not in its will, lies its innocency. I myself have seen
and known an infant to be jealous though it could not speak.
It became pale, and cast bitter looks on its foster-brother.
Who is ignorant of this? Mothers and nurses tell us that
they appease these things by I know not what remedies 5 and
may this be taken for innocence, that when the fountain of
milk is flowing fresh and abundant, one who has need should
not be allowed to share it, though needing that nourish-
ment to sustain life? Yet we look leniently on these things,
not because they are not faults, nor because the faults are
IO CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK I.
small., but because they will vanish as age increases. For
although you may allow these things now, you could not
bear them with equanimity if found in an older person.
12. Thou, therefore, O Lord my God, who gavest life
to the infant, and a frame which, as we see, Thou hast
endowed with senses, compacted with limbs, beautified with
form, and, for its general good and safety, hast introduced
all vital energies Thou commandest me to praise Thee for
these things, "to give thanks unto the Lord, and to sing
praise unto Thy name, O Most High;" for Thou art a God
omnipotent and good, though Thou hadst done nought but
these things, which none other can do but Thou, who alone
madest all things, O Thou most fair, who madest all things
fair, and orderest all according to Thy law. This period,
then, of my life, O Lord, of which I have no remembrance,
which I believe on the word of others, and which I guess
from other infants, it chagrins me true though the guess
be to reckon in this life of mine which I lead in this world ;
inasmuch as, in the darkness of my forgetfulness, it is like
to that which I passed in my mother's womb. But if "I
was shapen in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive
me/ 7 where, I pray thee, O my God, where, Lord, or when
was I, Thy servant, innocent? But behold, I pass by that
time, for what have I to do with that, the memories of
which I cannot recall?
CHAP. vill. That when a boy he learned to sneaky not by any set
method^ but from the acts and words of his 'parents*
13. Did I not, then, growing out of the state of infancy,
come to boyhood, or rather did it not come to me, and suc-
ceed to infancy? Nor did my infancy depart (for whither
CHAP. IX.] HE LEARNS TO SPEAK II
went it?) 5 and yet it did no longer abide, for I was no
longer an infant that could not speak, but a chattering boy.
I remember this, and I afterwards observed how I first
learned to speak, for my elders did not teach me words in
any set method, as they did letters afterwards ; but I myself,
when I was unable to say all I wished and to whomsoever
I desired, by means of the whimperings and broken ut-
terances and various motions of my limbs, which I used to
enforce my wishes, repeated the sounds in my memory by
the mind, O my God, which Thou gavest me. When they
called anything by name, and moved the body towards it
while they spoke, I saw and gathered that the thing they
wished to point out was called by the name they then ut-
tered y and that they did mean this was made plain by the
motion of the body, even by the natural language of all
nations expressed by the countenance, glance of the eye,
movement of other members, and by the sound of the
voice indicating the affections of the mind, as it seeks,
possesses, rejects, or avoids. So it was that by frequently
hearing words, in duly placed sentences, I gradually gath-
ered what things they were the signs of 5 and having formed
my mouth to the utterance of these signs, I thereby ex-
pressed my will. Thus I exchanged with those about me
the signs by which we express our wishes, and advanced
deeper into the stormy fellowship of human life, depending
the while on the authority of parents, and the beck of elders.
CHAP. IX. Concerning the hatred of learning, the love of
and the fear of being whined noticeable in boys: and of the
folly of our elders and masters.
14. O my God! what miseries and mockeries did I then
experience, when obedience to my teachers was set before
12 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK I.
me as proper to my boyhood, that I might flourish in this
world, and distinguish myself in the science of speech, which
should get me honour amongst men, and deceitful riches!
After that I was put to school to get learning of which I
(worthless as I was) knew not what use there was; and
yet, if slow to learn, I was flogged! For this was deemed
praiseworthy by our forefathers; and many before us pass-
ing the same course, had appointed beforehand for us these
troublesome ways by which we were compelled to pass, mul-
tiplying labour and sorrow upon the sons of Adam. Bur
we found, O Lord, men praying to Thee, and we learned
from them to conceive of Thee, according to our ability, to
be some Great One, who was able (though not visible to
our senses) to hear and help us. For as a boy I began to
pray to Thee, my "help" and my "refuge," and in invok-
ing Thee broke the bands of my tongue, and entreated Thee
though little, with no little earnestness, that I might not be
beaten at school. And when Thou heardest me not, giving
me not over to folly thereby, my elders, yea, and my own
parents too, who wished me no ill, laughed at my stripes,
my then great and grievous ill.
15. Is there any one, Lord, with so high a spirit, cleav-
ing to Thee with so strong an affection for even a kind of
obtuseness may do that much but is there, I say, any one
who, by cleaving devoutly to Thee, is endowed with so
great a courage that he can esteem lightly those racks and
hooks, and varied tortures of the same sort, against which,
throughout the whole world, men supplicate Thee with great
fear, deriding those who most bitterly fear them, just as
our parents derided the torments with which our masters
punished us when we were boys? For we were no less afraid
of our pains, nor did we pray less to Thee to avoid themj
CHAP. X.] HE NEGLECTS HIS STUDIES 1%
and yet we sinned, in writing, or reading, or reflecting upon
our lessons less than was required of us. For we wanted
not, O Lord, memory or capacity, of which, by Thy will,
we possessed enough for our age, but we delighted only in
playj and we were punished for this by those who were
doing the same things themselves. But the idleness of our
elders they call business, whilst boys who do the like are
punished by those same elders, and yet neither boys nor
men find any pity. For will any one of good sense approve
of my being whipped because, as a boy, I played ball, and
so was hindered from learning quickly those lessons by
means of which, as a man, I should play more unbecom-
ingly? And did he by whom, I was beaten do other than
this, who, when he was overcome in any little controversy
with a co-tutor, was more tormented by anger and envy
than I when beaten by a playfellow in a match at ball?
CHAP. X. Through a love of ball-claying and shows, he neglects
his studies and the injunctions of his
1 6. And yet I erred, O Lord God, the Creator and Dis-
poser of all things in Nature, but of sin the Disposer only,
I erred, O Lord my God, in doing contrary to the wishes
of my parents and of those masters 5 for this learning which
they (no matter for what motive) wished me to acquire, I
might have put to good account afterwards. For I disobeyed
them not because I had chosen a better way, but from a
fondness for play, loving the honour of victory in the
matches and to have my ears tickled with lying fables, in
order that they might itch the more furiously the same
curiosity beaming more and more in my eyes for the shows
and sports of my elders. Yet those who give these entertain-
14 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK I.
ments are held in such high repute, that almost all desire the
same for their children, whom they are still willing should
be beaten, if so be these same games keep them from the
studies by which they desire them to arrive at being the
givers of them. Look down upon these things, O Lord,
with compassion, and deliver us who now call upon Thee;
deliver those also who do not call upon Thee, that they may
call upon Thee, and that Thou mayest deliver them.
CHAP. XI. Seized by disease, his mother being troubled, he earnestly
demands b&ptlsm, which on recovery Is 'postponed his father
not as yet believing In Christ.
1 7. Even as a boy I had heard of eternal life promised to
us through the humility of the Lord our God condescending
to our pride, and I was signed with the sign of the cross, and
was seasoned with His salt even from the womb of my
mother, who greatly trusted in Thee. Thou sawest, O
Lord, how at one time, while yet a boy being suddenly seized
with pains in the stomach, and being at the point of death
Thou sawest, O my God, for even then Thou wast my
keeper, with what emotion of mind and with what faith I
solicited from the piety of my mother, and of Thy Church,
the mother of us all, the baptism of Thy Christ, my Lord
and my God. On which, the mother of my flesh being
much troubled, since she, with a heart pure in Thy faith,
travailed in birth more lovingly for my eternal salvation,
Would, had I not quickly recovered, have without delay pro-
vided for my initiation and washing by Thy life-giving sacra-
ments, confessing Thee, O Lord Jesus, for the remission of
sins. So my cleansing was deferred, as if I must needs,
should I live, be further polluted ; because, indeed, the guilt
contracted by sin would, after baptism, be greater and more
CHAP. XII.] HE HATES STUDY 15
perilous (2). Thus I at that time believed with my mother
and the whole house, except my father ; yet he did not over-
come the influence of my mother's piety in me so as to pre-
vent my believing in Christ, as he had not yet believed in
Him. For she was desirous that Thou, O my God, shouldst
be my Father rather than he; and in this Thou didst aid her
to overcome her husband, to whom, though the better of the
two, she yielded obedience, because in this she yielded
obedience to Thee, who dost so command.
1 8. I beseech Thee, my God, I would gladly know, if
it be Thy will, to what end my baptism was then deferred?
Was it for my good that the reins were slackened, as it were
upon me for me to sin? Or were they not slackened? If
not, whence comes it that it is still dinned into our ears on
all sides, "Let him alone, let him act as he likes, for he is
not yet baptized"? But as regards bodily health, no one
exclaims, "Let him be more seriously wounded, for he is
not yet cured!" How much better, then, had it been for me
to have been cured at once; and then, by my own and my
friends' diligence, my soul's restored health had been kept
safe in Thy keeping, who gavest it! Better, in truth. But
how numerous and great waves of temptation appeared to
hang over me after my childhood! These were foreseen by
my mother; and she preferred that the unformed clay should
be exposed to them rather than the image itself.
CHAP. xil. Being com-pelled, he gave his attention to learning, but
fully acknowledges that this was the work of God.
19. But in this my childhood (which was far less dreaded
for me than youth) I had no love of learning, and hated to
be forced to it, yet was I forced to it notwithstanding; and
this was well done towards me, but I did not well, for I
1 6 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK I.
would not have learned had I not been compelled. For no
man doth well against his will, even If that which he doth be
well. Neither did they who forced me do well, but the good
that was done to me came from Thee, my God. For they
considered not in what way I should employ what they
forced me to learn, unless to satisfy the inordinate desires
of a rich beggary and a shameful glory. But Thou, by
whom the very hairs of our heads are numbered, didst use
for my good the error of all who pressed me to learn ; and
my own error in willing not to learn, didst Thou make use of
for my punishment of which I, being so small a boy and so
great a sinner, was not unworthy. Thus by the instrumental-
ity of those who did not well didst Thou well for me ; and
by my own sin didst Thou justly punish me. For it is even
as Thou hast appointed, that every inordinate affection
should bring its own punishment*
CHAP. xnr. He delighted in Latin studies, and the empty fables
of the 'poets, but hated the elements of literature and the Greek
language.
20. But what was the cause of my dislike of Greek litera-
ture, which I studied from my boyhood, I cannot even now
understand. For the Latin I loved exceedingly not what
our first masters, but what the grammarians teach $ for those
primary lessons of reading, writing, and ciphering, I con-
sidered no less of a burden and a punishment than Greek.
Yet whence was this unless from the sin and vanity of this
life? for I was "but flesh, a wind that passeth away and
cometh not again." For those primary lessons were better,
assuredly, because more certain $ seeing that by their agency
I acquired, and still retain, the power of reading what I
find written, and writing myself what I will 5 whilst in the
CHAP. XIII.] HE DELIGHTS IN LATIN STUDIES Ij
others I was compelled to learn about the wanderings o a
certain ^Eneas, oblivious of my own, and to weep for Dido
dead, because she slew herself for love 5 while at the same
time \ brooked with dry eyes my wretched self dying far
from Thee, in the midst of those things, O God, my life.
21. For what can be more wretched than the wretch
who pities not himself shedding tears over the death of
Dido for love of -^Eneas, but shedding no tears over his own
death in not loving Thee, O God, light of my heart, and
bread of the inner mouth of my soul, and the power that
weddest my mind with my innermost thoughts? I did not
love Thee, and committed fornication against Theej and
those around me thus sinning cried, "Well done! Well
done!" For the friendship of this world is fornication
against Thee 5 and "Well done! Well done!" is cried until
one feels ashamed not to be such a man. And for this I
shed no tears, though I wept for Dido, who sought death
at the sword's point, myself the while seeking the lowest
of Thy creatures having forsaken Thee earth tending to
the earth j and if forbidden to read these things, how grieved
would I feel that I was not permitted to read what grieved
me. This sort of madness is considered a more honourable
and more fruitful learning than that by which I learned to
read and write.
22. But now, O my God, cry unto my soul 5 and let Thy
Truth say unto me, "It is not so, it is not so 3 better much
was that first teaching." For behold, I would rather forget
the wanderings of ^Eneas, and all such things, than how to
write and read. But it is true that over the entrance of the
grammar school there hangs a vail} but this is not so much
a sign of the majesty of the mystery, as of a covering for
error. Let not them exclaim against me of whom I am no
1 8 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK. I,
longer in fear, whilst I confess to Thee, my God, that which
my -soul desires, and acquiesce in reprehending my evil ways,
that I may love Thy good ways. Neither let those cry out
against me who buy or sell grammar-learnings. For if I
ask them whether it be true, as the poet says, that ^Eneas
once came to Carthage, the unlearned will reply that they do
not know, the learned will deny it to be true. But if I ask
with what letters the name ^Eneas is written, all who have
learnt this will answer truly, in accordance with the conven-
tional understanding men have arrived at as to these signs.
Again, if I should ask which, if forgotten, would cause the
greatest inconvenience in our life, reading and writing, or
these poetical fictions, who does not see what every one
would answer who had not entirely forgotten himself? I
erred, then, when as a boy I preferred those vain studies to
those more profitable ones, or rather loved the one and hated
the other. "One and one are two, two and two are four,"
this was then in truth a hateful song to me 5 while the
wooden horse full of armed men, and the burning of Troy,
and the "spectral image" of Creusa were a most pleasant
spectacle of vanity.
CHAP. xiv. Why he despised Greek literature > and easily learned
Latin.
23. But why, then, did I dislike Greek learning, which
was full of like tales (3)? For Homer also was skilled in
inventing similar stories, and is most sweetly vain, yet was
he disagreeable to me as a boy. I believe Virgil, indeed,
would be the same to Grecian children, if compelled to learn
him, as I was Homer. The difficulty, in truth, the difficulty
of learning a foreign language mingled as it were with gall
all the sweetness of those fabulous Grecian stories. For not
CHAP. XV.] HE DEDICATES HIS LEARNING TO GOD 1$
a single word of it did I understand, and to make me do so,
they vehemently urged me with cruel threatenings and pun-
ishments. There was a time also when (as an infant) I knew
no Latin; but this I acquired without any fear or tormenting,
by merely taking notice, amid the blandishments of my
nurses, the jests of those who smiled on me, and the sportive-
ness of those who toyed with me. I learnt all this, indeed,
without being urged by any pressure of punishment, for my
own heart urged me to bring forth its own conceptions, which
I could not do unless by learning words, not of those who
taught me, but of those who talked to me ; into whose ears,
also, I brought forth whatever I discerned. From this it is
sufficiently clear that a free curiosity hath more influence
in our learning these things than a necessity full of fear.
But this last restrains the overflowings of that freedom,
through Thy laws, O God, Thy laws, from the ferule of
the schoolmaster to the trials of the martyr, being effective
to mingle for us a salutary bitter, calling us back to Thyself
from the pernicious delights which allure us from Thee.
CHAP. xv. He entreats God, that whatever useful things he
learned as a boy may be dedicated to Him.
24. Hear my prayer, O Lord; let not my soul faint under
Thy discipline, nor let me faint in confessing unto Thee
Thy mercies, whereby Thou hast saved me from all my most
mischievous ways, that Thou mightest become sweet to me
beyond all the seductions which I used to follow; and that I
may love Thee entirely, and grasp Thy hand with my whole
heart, and that Thou mayest deliver me from every tempta-
tion, even unto the end. For lo, O Lord, my King and my
God, for Thy service be whatever useful thing I learnt as a
boy for Thy service what I speak, and write, and count.
iO CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK I.
For when I learned vain things, Thou didst grant me Thy
discipline 5 and my sin in taking delight in those vanities,
Thou hast forgiven me. I learned, indeed, in them many
useful words 5 but these may be learned in things not vain,
and that is the safe way for youths to walk in.
CHAP. XYI. He disapproves of the mode of educating youth, and
he joints out why wickedness is attributed to the gods by the ^o
25. But woe unto thee, thou stream of human custom!
Who shall stay thy course? How long shall it be before
thou art dried up? How long wilt thou carry down the
sons of Eve into that huge and formidable ocean, which
even they who are embarked on the cross (lignum) can scarce
pass over? Do I not read in thee of Jove the thunderer and
adulterer? And the two verily he could not be 5 but it was
that, while the fictitious thunder served as a cloak, he might
have warrant to imitate real adultery. Yet which of our
gowned masters can lend a temperate ear to a man of his
school who cries out and says: "These were Homer's fictions}
he transfers things human to the gods. I could have wished
him to transfer divine things to us." But it would have been
more true had he said: "These are, indeed, his fictions, but
he attributed divine attributes to sinful men, that crimes
might not be accounted crimes, and that whosoever com-
mitted any might appear to imitate the celestial gods and not
abandoned men."
26. And yet, thou stream of hell, into thee are cast the
sons of men, with rewards for learning these things 5 and
much is made of it when this i$ going on in the forum in the
sight of laws which grant a salary over and above the re-
wards. And thou beatest against thy rocks and roarest, say-
ing, "Hence words are learnt 5 hence eloquence is to be at-
CHAP. XVII.] THE WICKEDNESS OF THE GODS 21
tamed, most necessary to persuade people to your way of
thinking, and to unfold your opinions." So in truth we
should never have understood these words, "golden shower,"
"bosom," "intrigue," "highest heavens," and other words
written in the same place, unless Terence had introduced a
good-for-nothing youth upon the stage, setting up Jove as
his example of lewdness:
"Viewing a picture, where the tale was drawn,
Of Jove's descending in a golden shower
To Danae's bosom . . . with a woman to intrigue."
And see how he excites himself to lust, as if by celestial
authority, when he says:
"Great Jove,
Who shakes the highest heavens with his thunder,
And I, poor mortal man, not do the same!
I did it, and with all my heart I did it."
Not one whit more easily are the words learnt for this vile-
ness, but by their means is the vileness perpetrated with
more confidence. I do not blame the words, they being, as
it were, choice and precious vessels, but the wine of error
which was drunk in them to us by inebriated teachers 5 and
unless we drank, we were beaten, without liberty of appeal
to any sober judge. And yet, O my God, in whose pres-
ence I can now with security recall this, did I, unhappy one,
learn these things willingly, and with delight, and for this
was I called a boy of good promise.
CHAP. xvn. He continues on the unhaffy 'method of training
youth In literary subjects.
27. Bear with me, my God, while I speak a little of
'those talents Thou has bestowed upon me, and on what
22 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK I.
follies 1 wasted them. For a lesson sufficiently disquieting
to my soul was given me, in hope of praise, and fear of
shame or stripes, to speak the words of Juno, as she raged
and sorrowed that she could not
"Latium bar
From all approaches of the Dardan king,"
which I had heard Juno never uttered. Yet were we com-
pelled to stray in the footsteps of these poetic fictions, and
to turn that into prose which the poet had said in verse.
And his speaking was most applauded in whom, according to
the reputation of the persons delineated, the passions of
anger and sorrow were most strikingly reproduced, and
clothed in the most suitable language. But what is it to me,
O my true Life, my God, that my declaiming was applauded
above that of many who were my contemporaries and fel-
low-students? Behold is not all this smoke and wind? Was
there nothing else, too, on which I could exercise my wit and
tongue? Thy praise, Lord, Thy praises might have sup-
ported the tendrils of my heart by Thy Scriptures ; so had it
not been dragged away by these empty trifles, a shameful
prey of the fowls of the air* For there is more than one
way in which men sacrifice to the fallen angels.
CHAP. xvin. Men desire to observe the rules of learning) but
neglect the eternal rules of everlasting safety,
28. But what matter of surprise is it that I was thus
carried towards vanity, and went forth from Thee, O my
God, when men were proposed to me to imitate, who, should
they in relating any acts of theirs not in themselves evil >
be guilty of a barbarism or solecism, when censured for it
became confounded 5 but when they made a full and ornate
CHAP. XVIII.] THE VANITY OF LEARNING 23
oration, in well-chosen words, concerning their own licen-
tiousness, and were applauded for it, they boasted? Thou
seest this, O Lord, and keepest silence, "long-suffering, and
plenteous in mercy and truth," as Thou art. Wilt Thou
keep silence for ever? And even now Thou drawest out of
this vast deep the soul that seeketh Thee and thirsteth after
Thy delights, wfoose "heart said unto Thee," I have sought
Thy face, "Thy face, Lord, will I seek." For I was far
from Thy face, through my darkened affections. For it is
not by our feet, nor by change of place, that we either turn
from Thee or return to Thee. Or, indeed, did that younger
son look out for horses, or chariots, or ships, or fly away
with visible wings, or journey by the motion of his limbs,
that he might, in a far country, prodigally waste all that
Thou gavest him when he set out? A kind Father when
Thou gavest, and kinder still when he returned destitute!
So, then, in wanton, that is to say, in darkened affections,
lies distance from Thy face.
29. Behold, O Lord God, and behold patiently, as Thou
art wont to do, how diligently the sons of men observe the
conventional rules of letters and syllables, received from
those who spoke prior to them, and yet neglect the eternal
rules of everlasting salvation received from Thee, insomuch
that he who practises or teaches the hereditary rules of pro-
nunciation, if, contrary to grammatical usage, he should say,
without aspirating the first letter, a uman being, will offend
men more than if, in opposition to Thy commandments, he,
a human being, were to hate a human being. As if, indeed,
any man should feel that an enemy could be more destruc-
tive to him than that hatred with which he is excited against
him, or that he could destroy more utterly him whom he
persecutes than he destroys his own soul by his enmity. And
24 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK. I.
of a truth, there is no science of letters more innate than the
writing of conscience that he is doing unto another what
he himself would not suffer. How mysterious art Tho%
who in silence "dwellest on high/' Thou God, the only great ?
who by an unwearied law dealest out the punishment of
blindness to illicit desires! When a man seeking for the
reputation of eloquence stands before a human judge while
a thronging multitude surrounds him, inveighs against his
enemy with the most fierce hatred, he takes most vigilant
heed that his tongue slips not into grammatical error, but
takes no heed lest through the fury of his spirit he cut off a
man from his fellow-men.
30. These were the customs in the midst of which I,
unhappy boy, was cast, and on that arena it was that I was
more fearful of perpetrating a barbarism than, having done
so, of envying those who had not. These things I declare
and confess unto Thee, my God, for which I was applauded
by them whom I then thought it my whole duty to please,
for I did not perceive the gulf of infamy wherein I was cast
away from Thine eyes. For in Thine eyes what was more
infamous than I was already, displeasing even those like
myself, deceiving with innumerable lies both tutor, and
masters, and parents, from love of play, a desire to see
frivolous spectacles, and a stage-struck restlessness, to imitate
them? Pilferings I committed from my parents 7 cellar and
table, either enslaved by gluttony, or that I might have some-
thing to give to boys who sold me their play, who, though
they sold it, liked it as well as I. In this play, likewise, I
often sought dishonest victories, I myself being conquered
by the vain desire of pre-eminence. And what could I so
little endure, or, if I detected it, censured I so violently, as
the very things I did to others, and, when myself detected
CHAP. XVIII.] GOD TO BE THANKED FOR HIS BOYHOOD 25
I was censured, preferred rather to quarrel than to yield?
Is this the innocence of childhood? Nay, Lord, nay. Lord 5
I entreat Thy mercy, O my God. For these same sins, as
we grow older, are transferred from governors and masters,
from nuts, and balls, and sparrows, to magistrates and kings,
to gold, and lands, and slaves, just as the rod is succeeded by
more severe chastisements. It was, then, the stature of
childhood that Thou, O our King, didst approve of as an
emblem of humility when Thou saidst: "Of such is the
kingdom of heaven."
31. But yet, O Lord, to Thee, most excellent and most
good, Thou Architect and Governor of the universe, thanks
had been due unto Thee, our God, even hadst Thou willed
that I should not survive my boyhood. For I existed even
then 5 I lived, and felt, and was solicitous about my own well-
being, a trace of that most mysterious unity from whence
I had my being j I kept watch by my inner sense over the
wholeness of my senses, and in these insignificant pursuits,
and also in my thoughts on things insignificant, I learnt to
take pleasure in truth. I was averse to being deceived, I had
a vigorous memory, was provided with the power of speech,
was softened by friendship, shunned sorrow, meanness,
ignorance. In such a being what was not wonderful and
praiseworthy? But all these are gifts of my God 5 I did not
give them to myself 5 and they are good, and all these con-
stitute myself. Good, then, is He that made me, and He is
my God; and before Him will I rejoice exceedingly for
every good gift which, as a boy, I had. For in this lay my
sin, that not in Him, but in His creatures myself and the
res t I sought for pleasures, honours, and truths, falling
thereby into sorrows, troubles and errors. Thanks be to
26 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK I.
Thee, my joy, my pride, my confidence, my God thanks
be to Thee for Thy gifts; but preserve Thou them to me.
For thus wilt Thou preserve me; and those things which
Thou hast given me shall be developed and perfected, and
I myself shall be with Thee, for from Thee is my being.
BOOK SECOND.
HE ADVANCES TO PUBERTY, AND INDEED TO THE EARLY PART OF THE SIX-
TEENTH YEAR OF HIS AGE, IN WHICH, HAVING ABANDONED HIS STUDIES,
HE INDULGED IN LUSTFUL PLEASURES, AND, WITH HIS COMPANIONS,
COMMITTED THEFT.
CHAP. i. He deplores the wickedness of his youth.
I. T WILL now call to mind my past foulness, and the
JL carnal corruptions of my soul, not because I love
them, but that I may love Thee, O my God. For love of
Thy love do I it, recalling, in the very bitterness of my
remembrance, my most vicious ways, that Thou mayest grow
sweet to me, Thou sweetness without deception! Thou
sweetness happy and assured! and re-collecting myself out
of that my dissipation, in which I was torn to pieces, while,
turned away from Thee the One, I lost myself among many
vanities. For I even longed in my youth formerly to be
satisfied with worldly things, and I dared to grow wild
again with various and shadowy loves ; my form consumed
away, and I became corrupt in Thine eyes, pleasing myself,
and eager to please in the eyes of men.
CHAP. n. Stricken with exceeding grief, he remembers the disso-
lute passions in which y in his sixteenth year } he used to Indulge.
2. But what was it that I delighted in save to love and to
be beloved? But I held it not in moderation, mind to mind,
the bright path of friendship, but out of the dark con-
cupiscence of the flesh and the effervescence of youth ex-
halations came forth which obscured and overcast my heart,
27
28 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK II.
so that I was unable to discern pure affection from unholy
desire. Both boiled confusedly within me, and dragged
away my unstable youth into the rough places of unchaste de-
sires, and plunged me into a gulf of infamy. Thy anger
had overshadowed me, and I knew it not. I was become
deaf by the rattling of the chains of my mortality, the pun-
ishment for my souPs pride 5 and I wandered farther from
Thee, and Thou didst "suffer" me; and I Was tossed to and
fro, and wasted, and poured out, and boiled over in my
fornications, and Thou didst hold Thy peace, O Thou my
tardy joy! , Thou then didst hold Thy peace, and I wan-
dered still farther from Thee, into more and more barren
seed-plots of sorrows, with proud dejection and restless lassi-
tude.
3. Oh for one to have regulated my disorder, and turned
to my profit the fleeting beauties of the things around me,
and fixed a bound to their sweetness, so that the tides of my
youth might have spent themselves upon the conjugal shore^,
if so be they could not be tranquillized and 'satisfied withia
the object of a family, as Thy law appoints, O Lord, who
thus formest the offspring of our death, being able also
with a tender hand to blunt the thorns which were excluded
from Thy paradise! For Thy omnipotency is not far from
us even when we are far from Thee, else in truth ought I
more vigilantly to have given heed to the voice from the
clouds: "Nevertheless, such shall have trouble in the flesh,
but I spare you j" and, "It is good for a man not to touch a
woman j" and, "He that is unmarried careth for the things
that belong to the Lord, how he may please the Lord; but
he that is married careth for the things that are of the world,
how he may please his wife." I should, therefore, have
CHAP. III.] OF HIS SIXTEENTH YEAR 29
listened more attentively to these words, and, being severed
"for the kingdom of heaven's sake/' I would with greater
happiness have expected Thy embraces.
4. But I, poor fool, seethed as does the sea, and, forsak-
ing Thee, followed the violent course of my own stream,
and exceeded all Thy limitations 5 nor did I escape Thy
scourges. For what mortal can do so? But Thou wert
always by me, mercifully angry, and dashing with the bit-
terest vexations all my illicit pleasures, in order that I might
seek pleasures free from vexation. But where I could meet
with such except in Thee, O Lord, I could not find, ex-
cept in Thee, who teachest by sorrow, and woundest us to
heal us, and killest us that we may not die from Thee.
Where was I, and how far was I exiled from the delights of
Thy house, in that sixteenth year of the age of my flesh,
when the madness of lust to the which human shameless-
ness granteth full freedom, although forbidden by Thy
laws held complete sway over me, and I resigned myself
entirely to it? Those about me meanwhile took no care to
save me from ruin by marriage, their sole care being that
I should learn to make a powerful speech, and become a
persuasive orator.
CHAP. HI. Concerning Ms father, a freeman of Thagaste, the
assister of his son y s studies, and on the admonitions of his
mother on the 'preservation of chastity.
5. And for that year my studies were intermitted, while
after my return from Madaura (a neighbouring city, whither
I had begun to go in order to learn grammar and rhetoric),
the expenses for a further residence at Carthage were pro*
vided for me; and that was rather by the determination
than the means of my father, who was but a poor freeman
3 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK II.
of Thagaste. To whom do I narrate this? Not unto Thee,
my God, but before Thee unto my own kind, even to that
small part of the human race who may chance to light upon
these my writings. And to what end? That I and all who
read the same may reflect out of what depths we are to cry
unto Thee. For what cometh nearer to Thine ears than a
confessing heart and a life of faith ? For who did not extol
and praise my father, in that he went even beyond his means
to supply his son with all the necessaries for a far journey
for the sake of his studies? For many far richer citizens
did not the like for their children. But yet this same father
did not trouble himself how" I grew towards Thee, nor how
chaste I was, so long as I was skilful in speaking however
barren I was to Thy tilling, O God, who art the sole true
and good Lord of my heart, which is Thy field.
6. But while, in that sixteenth year of my age, I resided
with my parents, having holiday from school for a time
(this idleness being imposed upon me by my parents' neces-
sitous circumstances), the thorns of lust grew rank over my
head, and there was no hand to pluck them out. More-
over when my father, seeing me at the baths, perceived that
I was becoming a man, and was stirred with a restless youth-
fulness, he, as if from this anticipating future descendants,
joyfully told it to my mother j rejoicing in that intoxication
wherein the world so often forgets Thee, its Creator, and
falls in love with Thy creature instead of Thee, from the
invisible wine of its own perversity turning and bowing down
to the most infamous things. But in my mother's breast
Thou hadst even now begun Thy temple, and the commence-'
ment of Thy holy habitation, whereas my father was only a
catechumen as yet, and that but recently. She then started
up with a pious fear and trembling ; and, although I had not
CHAP. III.] HIS MOTHER ADMONISHES HIM 3!
yst been baptized, she feared those crooked ways in which
they walk who turn their back to Thee, and not their face.
7. Woe is me! and dare I affirm that Thou heldest Thy
peace, O my God, while I strayed farther from Thee?
Didst Thou then hold Thy peace to me? And whose words
were they but Thine which by my mother, Thy faithful
handmaid, Thou pouredst into my ears, none of which sank
into my heart to make me do it? For she despised, and I
remember privately warned me, with a great solicitude, "not
to commit fornication 5 but above all things never to defile
another man's wife." These appeared to me but womanish
counsels, which I should blush to obey. But they were
Thine, and I knew it not, and I thought that Thou heldest
Thy peace, and that it was she who spoke, through whom
Thou heldest not Thy peace to me, and in her person wast
despised by me, her son, "the son of Thy handmaid, Thy
servant." But this I knew not, and rushed on headlong
with such blindness, that amongst my equals I Was ashamed
to be less shameless, when I heard them pluming them-
selves upon their disgraceful acts, yea, and glorying all the
more in proportion to the greatness of their baseness ; and
I took pleasure in doing it, not for the pleasure's sake only,
but for the praise. What is worthy of dispraise but vice?
But I made myself out worse than I was, in order that I
might not be dispraised ; and when in anything I had not
sinned as the abandoned ones, I would affirm that I had
done what I had not, that I might not appear abject for being
more innocent, or of less esteem for being more chaste.
8. Behold with what companions I walked the streets
of Babylon, in whose filth I was rolled, as if in cinnamon
and precious ointments. And that I might cleave the more
tenaciously to its very centre, my invisible enemy trod me
%2 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK II.
down, and seduced me, I being easily seduced. Nor did the
mother of my flesh, although she herself had ere this fled
"out of the midst of Babylon/ 5 progressing, however, but
slowly in the skirts of it, in counselling me to chastity, so
bear in mind what she had been told about me by her hus-
band as to restrain in the limits of conjugal affection (if it
could not be cut away to the quick) what she knew to be
destructive in the present and dangerous in the future. But
she took no heed of this, for she was afraid lest a wife should
prove a hindrance and a clog to my hopes. Not those hopes
of the future world, which my mother had in Thee j but the
hope of learning, which both my parents were too anxious
that I should acquire, he, because he had little or no
thought of Thee, and but vain thoughts for me she, because
she calculated that those usual courses of learning would not
only be no drawback, but rather a furtherance towards my
attaining Thee. For thus I conjecture, recalling as well as I
can the dispositions of my parents. The reins, meantime,
were slackened towards me beyond the restraint of due
severity, that I might play, yea, even to dissoluteness, in
whatsoever I fancied. And in all there was a mist, shutting
out from my sight the brightness of Thy truth, O my God;
and my iniquity displayed itself as from very "fatness."
CHAP. iv. He commits theft with his companions > not urged on
by poverty, but from a certain distaste for well-doing.
9. Theft is punished by Thy law, O Lord, and by the
law written in men's hearts, which iniquity itself cannot blot
out. For what thief will suffer a thief? Even a rich thief
will not suffer him who is driven to it by want. Yet had I
a desire to commit robbery, and did so, compelled neither
by hunger, nor poverty, but through a distaste for well-
CHAP. V.] OUR MOTIVES TO SIN 33
doing, and a lustiness of iniquity. For I pilfered that of
which I had already sufficient, and much better. Nor did I
desire to enjoy what I pilfered, but the theft and sin itself.
There was a pear-tree close to our vineyard, heavily laden
with fruit, which was tempting neither for its colour nor its
flavour. To shake and rob this some of us wanton young
fellows went, late one night (having, according to our dis-
graceful habit, prolonged our games in the streets until
then), and carried away great loads, not to eat ourselves,
but to fling to the very swine, having only eaten some of
them 5 and to do this pleased us all the more because it was
not permitted. , Behold my heart, O my God; behold my
heart, which Thou hadst pity upon when in the bottomless
pit. Behold, now, let my heart tell Thee what it was seek-
ing there, that I should be gratuitously wanton, having no
inducement to evil but the evil itself. It was foul, and I
loved it. I loved to perish. I loved my own error not
that for which I erred, but the error itself. Base souls, fall-
ing from Thy firmament to utter destruction not seeking
aught through the shame but the shame itself!
CHAP. v. Concerning the motives to sln y which are not In the love
of evil) but In the desire of obtaining the froferty of others.
10. There is a desirableness in all beautiful bodies, and
in gold, and silver, and all things 5 and in bodily contact
sympathy is powerful, and each other sense hath his proper
adaptation of body. Worldly honour hath also its glory,
and the power of command, and of overcoming 5 whence
proceeds also the desire for revenge. And yet to acquire
all these, we must not depart from Thee, O Lord, nor
deviate from Thy law. The life which we live here hath
also its peculiar attractiveness, through a certain measure
34 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK II.
of comeliness of its own, and harmony with all things here
below. The friendships of men also are endeared by a sweet
bond, in the oneness of many souls. On account of all these,
and such as these, is sin committed; while through an in-
ordinate preference for these goods of a lower kind, the
better and higher are neglected, even Thou, our Lord
God, Thy truth, and Thy law. For these meaner things
have their delights, but not like unto my God, who hath
created all things j for in Him doth the righteous delight,
and He is the sweetness of the upright in heart.
1 1 . When, therefore, we inquire why a crime was com-
mitted, we do not believe it, unless it appear that there might
have been the wish to obtain some of those which we desig-
nated meaner things, or else a fear of losing them. For
truly they are beautiful and comely, although in comparison
with those higher and celestial goods they be abject and con-
temptible. A man hath murdered another 5 what was his
motive? He desired his wife or his estate 5 or would steal
to support himself 5 or he was afraid of losing something
of the kind by him 5 or, being injured, he was burning to be
revenged. Would he commit murder without a motive,
taking delight simply in the act of murder? Who would
credit it? For as for that savage and brutal man, of whom it
is declared that he was gratuitously wicked and cruel, there
is yet a motive assigned. "Lest through idleness," he says,
"hand or heart should grow inactive." And to what pur-
pose? Why, even that, having once got possession of the
city through that practice of wickedness, he might attain unto
honours, empire, and wealth, and be exempt from the fear
of the laws, and his difficult circumstances from the needs of
his family, and the consciousness of his own wickedness. So
it seems that even Catiline himself loved not his own vil-
CHAP. VI.] HE DELIGHTS IN HIS THEFT 35
lanies, but something else, which gave him the motive for
committing them.
CHAP. vi. Why he delighted In that theft, when all things which
under the appearance of good invite to vice, are true and per-
fect in God alone.
12. What was it, then, that I, miserable one, so doted on
in thee, thou theft of mine, thou deed of darkness, in that
sixteenth year of my age? Beautiful thou wert not, since
thou wert theft. But art thou anything, that so I may argue
the case with thee? Those pears that we stole were fair to
the sight, because they were Thy creation, Thou fairest of
all, Creator of all, Thou good God God, the highest good,
and my true good. Those pears truly were pleasant to the
sight ; but it was not for them that my miserable soul lusted,
for I had abundance of better, but those I plucked simply
that I might steal. For, having plucked them, I threw them
away, my sole gratification in them being my own sin, which
I was pleased to enjoy. For if any of these pears entered
my mouth, the sweetener of it was my sin in eating it. And
now, O Lord my God, I ask what it was in that theft of mine
that caused me such delight 5 and behold it hath no beauty in
it not such, I mean, as exists in justice and wisdom 5 nor
such as is in the mind, memory, senses, and animal life of
man; nor yet such as is the glory and beauty of the stars in
their courses j or the earth, or the sea, teeming with incipient
life, to replace, as it is born, that which decayeth; nor, in-
deed, that false and shadowy beauty which pertaineth to
deceptive vices.
13. For thus doth pride imitate high estate, whereas
Thou alone art God, high above all. And what does ambi-
tion seek but honours, and renown, whereas Thou alone
36 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK II.
art to be honoured above all, and renowned for evermore?
The cruelty of the powerful wishes to be feared 5 but who is
to be feared but God only, out of whose power what can be
forced away or withdrawn when, or where, or whither, or
by whom? The enticements of the wanton would fain be
deemed love; and yet is naught more enticing than Thy
charity, nor is aught loved more healthfully than that, Thy
truth, bright and beautiful above all. Curiosity affects a
desire for knowledge, whereas it is Thou who supremely
knowest all things. Yea, ignorance and foolishness them-
selves are concealed under the names of ingenuousness and
harmlessness, because nothing can be found more ingenuous
than Thou j and what is more harmless, since it is a sinner's
own works by which he is harmed? And sloth seems to
long for rest; but what sure rest is there besides the Lord?
Luxury would fain be called plenty and abundance $ but
Thou art the fulness and unfailing plenteousness of unfad-
ing joys. Prodigality presents a shadow of liberality, but
Thou art the most lavish giver of all good. Covetousness
desires to possess much; and Thou art the Possessor of all
things. Envy contends for excellence; but what so excellent
as Thou? Anger seeks revenge; who avenges more justly
than Thou? Fear starts at unwonted and sudden chances
which threaten things beloved, and is wary for their security;
but what can happen that is unwonted or sudden to Thee?
or who can deprive Thee of what Thou lovest? or where is
there unshaken security save with Thee? Grief languishes
for things lost in which desire had delighted itself, even be-
cause it would have nothing taken from it, as nothing can
be from Thee.
14. Thus doth the soul commit fornication when she
turns away from Thee, and seeks without Thee what she
CHAP. VII.] HE GIVES THANKS TO GOD 37
cannot find pure and untainted until she returns to Thee,
Thus all pervertedly imitate Thee who separate themselves
far from Thee, and raise themselves up against Thee. But
even by thus imitating Thee they acknowledge Thee to be
the Creator of all nature, and so that there is no place
whither they can altogether retire from Thee. What, then,
was it that I loved in that theft? And wherein did I,, even
corruptedly and pervertedly., imitate my Lord? Did I wish,
if only by artifice, to act contrary to Thy law, because by
power I could not, so that, being a captive, I might imitate
an imperfect liberty by doing with impunity things which I
was not allowed to do, in obscured likeness of Thy om-
nipotency? Behold this servant of Thine, fleeing from his
Lord, and following a shadow! O rottenness! O mon-
strosity of life and profundity of death ! Could I like that
which was unlawful only because it was unlawful?
CHAP. VII. Re gives thanks to God for the remission of his sins %
and reminds every one that the Supreme God may have 'pre-
served us from greater sins.
15. "What shall I render unto the Lord," that whilst
my memory recalls these things my soul is not appalled
at them? I will love Thee, O Lord, and thank Thee, and
confess unto Thy name, because Thou hast put away from
me these so wicked and nefarious acts of mine. To Thy
grace I attribute it, and to Thy mercy, that Thou hast melted
away my sin as it were ice. To Thy grace also I attribute
whatsoever of evil I have not committed $ for what might I
not have committed, loving as I did the sin for the sin's
sake? Yea, all I confess to have been pardoned me, both
those which I committed by my own perverseness, and those
38 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK II.
which, by Thy guidance, I committed not. Where is he who,
reflecting upon his own infirmity dares to ascribe his chastity
and innocency to his own strength, so that he should love
Thee the less, as if he had been in less need of Thy mercy,
whereby Thou dost forgive the transgressions of those that
turn to Thee? For whosoever, called by Thee, obeyed
Thy voice, and shunned those things which he reads me
recalling and confessing of myself, let him not despise me,
who, being sick, was healed by that same Physician by whose
aid it was that he was not sick, or rather was less sick. And
for this let him love Thee as much, yea, all the more, since
by whom he sees me to have been restored from so great a
feebleness of sin, by Him he sees himself from a like feeble-
ness to have been preserved.
CHAP. vill. In his theft he loved the company of his fellow*
sinners.
1 6. "What fruit had I then," wretched one, in those
things which, when I remember them, cause me shame
above all in that theft, which I loved only for the theft's
sake? And as the theft itself was nothing, all the more
wretched was I who loved it. Yet by myself alone I would
not have done it I recall what my heart was alone I could
not have done it. I loved, then, in it the companionship of
my accomplices with whom I did it. I did not, therefore,
love the theft alone yea, rather, it was that alone that I
loved, for the companionship was nothing. What is the
fact? Who is it that can teach me, but He who illuminateth
mine heart and searcheth out the dark corners thereof?
What is it that hath come into my mind to inquire about,
to discuss, and to reflect upon? For had I at that time loved
CHAP. IX.] INFLUENCE OF BAD COMPANIONS 39
the pears I stole, and wished to enjoy them, I might have
done so alone, if I could have been satisfied with the mere,
commission of the theft by which my pleasure was secured}
nor needed I have provoked that itching of my own pas-
sions, by the encouragement of accomplices. But as my
enjoyment was not in those pears it was in the crime itself,
which the company of my fellow-sinners produced.
CHAP. ix. It was a pleasure to him also to laugh when seriously
deceiving others.
17. By what feelings, then, was I animated? For it was
in truth too shameful 5 and woe was me who had it. But
still what was it? "Who can understand his errors? 5 ' We
laughed, because our hearts were tickled at the thought of
deceiving those who little imagined what we were doing,
and would have vehemently disapproved of it. Yet, again,
why did I so rejoice in this, that I did not alone? Is it that
no one readily laughs alone? No one does so readily 5 but
yet sometimes, when men are alone by themselves, nobody
being by, a fit of laughter overcomes them when anything
very droll presents itself to their senses or mind. Yet alone
I wbuld not have done it alone I could not at all have done
it. Behold, my God, the lively recollection of my soul is
laid bare before Thee alone I had not committed that theft,
wherein what I stole pleased me not, but rather the act of
stealing 5 nor to have done it alone would I have liked so
well, neither would I have done it. O Friendship too un-
friendly! thou mysterious seducer of the soul, thou greed-
iness to do mischief out of mirth and wantonness, thou crav-
ing for others' loss, without desire for my own profit or
revenge 5 but when they say, "Let us go, let us do it," we are
ashamed not to be shameless.
40 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK II.
CHAP. x. With God there is true rest and life unchanging.
1 8 . Who can unravel that twisted and tangled knottiness?
It is foul. I hate to reflect on it. I hate to look on it. But
thee do I long for, O righteousness and innocency, fair and
comely to all virtuous eyes, and of a satisfaction that never
palls! With thee is perfect rest, and life unchanging. He
who enters into thee enters into the joy of his Lord, and
shall have no fear, and shall do excellently in the most Ex-
cellent. I sank away from Thee, O my God, and I wan-
dered too far from Thee, my stay, in my youth, and became
to myself an unfruitful land.
BOOK THIRD.
OF THE SEVENTEENTH, EIGHTEENTH, AND NINETEENTH YEARS OF HIS AGE,
PASSED AT CARTHAGE, WHEN, HAVING COMPLETED HIS COURSE OF
STUDIES, HE IS CAUGHT IN THE SNARES OF A LICENTIOUS PASSION, AND
FALLS INTO THE SNARES OF THE MANICHJEANS.
CHAP. I. Deluded by an Insane love, he > though foul and dishon-
ourable, desires to be thought elegant and urbane.
I. rTX) Carthage I came, where a cauldron of unholy loves
jL bubbled up all around me. I loved not as yet, yet
I loved to love 5 and, with a hidden want, I abhorred myself
that I wanted not. I searched about for something to love,
in love with loving, and hating security, and a Way not beset
with snares. For within me I had a dearth of that inward
food, Thyself, my God, though that dearth caused me no
hunger 3 but I remained without all desire for incorruptible
food, not because I was already filled thereby, but the
more empty I was the more I loathed it. For this reason
my soul was far from well, and, full of ulcers, it miserably
cast itself forth, craving to be excited by contact with objects
of sense. Yet, had these no soul, they would not surely in-
spire love. To love and to be loved was sweet to me, and
all the more when I succeeded in enjoying the person I
loved. I befouled, therefore, the spring of friendship with
the filth of concupiscence, and I dimmed its lustre with the
hell of lustfulness; and yet, foul and dishonourable as I
was, I craved, through an excess of vanity, to be thought
elegant and urbane. I fell precipitately, then, into the love
in which I longed to be ensnared. My God, my mercy, with
41
42 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK III.
how much bitterness didst Thou, out of Thy infinite good-
ness, besprinkle for me that sweetness! For I was both
beloved, and secretly arrived at the bond of enjoying; and
was joyfully bound with troublesome ties, that I might be
scourged with the burning iron rods of jealousy, suspicion,
fear, anger, and strife.
CHAP. TI. In public spectacles he is moved by an em-pty compassion.
He is attacked by a troublesome spiritual disease.
2. Stage-plays also drew me away, full of representations
of my miseries and of fuel to my fire. Why does man like
to be made sad when viewing doleful and tragical scenes,
which yet he himself would by no means suffer? And yet
he wishes, as a spectator, to experience from them a sense
of grief, and in this very grief Ms pleasure consists. What
is this but wretched insanity? For a man is more affected
with these actions, the less free he is from such affections.
Howsoever, when he suffers in his own person, it is the cus-
tom to style it "misery ;" but when he compassionates others,
then it is styled "mercy." But what kind of mercy is it
that arises from fictitious and scenic passions? The hearer
is not expected to relieve, but merely invited to grieve 5 and
the more he grieves, the more he applauds the actor of these
fictions. And if the misfortunes of the characters (whether
of olden times or merely imaginary) be so represented as not
to touch the feelings of the spectator, he goes away disgusted
and censorious 5 but if his feelings be touched, he sits it out
attentively, and sheds tears of joy.
3. Are sorrows, then, also loved? Surely all men desire
to rejoice? Or, as man wishes to be miserable, is he, never-
theless, glad to be merciful, which, because it cannot exist
without passion, for this cause alone are passions loved?
CHAP. II.] REAL AND UNREAL SYMPATHY 43
This also is from that vein of friendship. But whither does
it go? Whither does it flow? Wherefore runs it into that
torrent of pitch, seething forth those huge tides of loathsome
lusts into which it is changed and transformed, being of its
own will cast away and corrupted from its celestial clearness?
Shall, then, mercy be repudiated? By no means. Let us,
therefore, love sorrows sometimes. But beware of unclean-
ness, O my soul, under the protection of my God, the God
of our fathers, who is to be praised and exalted above all
for ever, beware of uncleanness. For I have not now ceased
to have compassion 5 but then in the theatres I sympathized
with lovers when they sinfully enjoyed one another, al-
though this was done fictitiously in the play. And when they
lost one another, I grieved with them, as if pitying them,
and yet had delight in both. But now-a-days I feel much
more pity for him that delighteth in his wickedness, than
for him who is counted as enduring hardships by failing to
obtain some pernicious pleasure, and the loss of some miser-
able felicity. This, surely, is the truer mercy, but grief hath
no delight in it. For though he that condoles with the un-
happy be approved for his office of charity, yet would he who
had real compassion rather there were nothing for him to
grieve about. For if good-will be ill-willed (which it can-
not), then can he who is truly and sincerely commiserating
wish that there should be some unhappy ones, that he might
commiserate them. Some grief may then be justified, none
loved. For thus dost Thou, O Lord God, who lovest souls
far more purely than do we, and art more incorruptibly com-
passionate, although Thou art wounded by no sorrow. "And
who is sufficient for these things?"
4. But I, wretched one, then loved to grieve, and sought
out what to grieve at, as when, in another man's misery,
44 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK III.
though feigned and counterfeited, that delivery of the actor
best pleased me, and attracted me the most powerfully, which
moved me to tears. What marvel was it that an unhappy
sheep, straying from Thy flock, and impatient of Thy care,
I became infected with a foul disease? And hence came my
love of griefs not such as should probe me too deeply, for
I loved not to suffer such things as I loved to look upon, but
such as, when hearing their fictions, should lightly affect the
surf ace j upon which, like as with empoisoned nails, followed
burning, swelling, putrefaction, and horrible corruption.
Such was my life! But was it life, O my God?
CHAP. in. Not even when at church does he suffress his desires*
In the School of Rhetoric he abhors the acts of subverters.
5. And Thy faithful mercy hovered over me afar. Upon
what unseemly iniquities did I wear myself out, following
a sacrilegious curiosity, that, having deserted Thee, it might
drag me into the treacherous abyss, and to the beguiling
obedience of devils unto whom I immolated my wicked deeds
and in all which Thou didst scourge me! I dared, even
while Thy solemn rites were being celebrated within the
walls of Thy church, to desire, and to plan a business suffi-
cient to procure me the fruits of death; for which Thou
chastisedst me with grievous punishments, but nothing in
comparison with my fault, O Thou my greatest mercy, my
God, my refuge from those terrible hurts, among which
I wandered with presumptuous neck, receding farther from
Thee, loving my own ways, and not Thine loving a vagrant
liberty.
6. Those studies, also, which were accounted honourable,
were directed towards the courts of law 5 to excel in which,
the more crafty I was, the more I should be praised. Such is
CHAP. IV.] HE STUDIES BOOKS OF ELOQUENCE 45
the blindness of men that they even glory in their blindness.
And now I was head in the School of Rhetoric, whereat I
rejoiced proudly, and became inflated with arrogance, though
more sedate, O Lord, as Thou knowest,, and altogether re-
moved from the subvertings of those "subverters" (for this
stupid and diabolical name was held to be the very brand of
gallantry) amongst whom I lived, with an impudent shame-
f acedness that I was not even as they were. And with them
I was, and at times I was delighted with their friendship
whose acts I ever abhorred, that is, their "subverting,"
wherewith they insolently attacked the modesty of strangers,
which they disturbed by uncalled for jeers, gratifying
thereby their mischievous mirth. Nothing can more nearly
resemble the actions of devils than these. By what name,
therefore, could they be more truly called than "sub-
verters"? being themselves subverted first, and altogether
perverted being secretly mocked at and seduced by the de-
ceiving spirits, in what they themselves delight to jeer at
and deceive others.
CHAP. iv. In the nineteenth year of his age (Ms father having
died two years before) he Is led by the "Hortensius" of Cicero
to 'philosophy ) to God) and a better mode of thinking.
7. Among such as these, at that unstable period of my
life, I studied books of eloquence, wherein I was eager to
be eminent from a damnable and inflated purpose, even 2
delight in human vanity. In the ordinary course of study ?
I lighted upon a certain book of Cicero, whose language r
though not his heart, almost all admire. This book of hi$
contains an exhortation to philosophy, and is called Hor-
tensius. This book, in truth, changed my affections, and
turned my prayers to Thyself, O Lord, and made me have
46 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK III.
other hopes and desires. Worthless suddenly became every
vain hope to me; and, with an incredible warmth of heart,
I yearned for an immortality of wisdom, and began now to
arise that I might return to Thee. Not, then, to improve
my language which I appeared to be purchasing with my
mother's means, in that my nineteenth year, my father hav-
ing died two years before not to improve my language did
I have recourse to that book; nor did it persuade me by its
style, but its matter.
8. How ardent was I then, my God, how ardent to fly
from earthly things to Thee! Nor did I know how Thou
wouldst deal with me. For with Thee is wisdom. In Greek
the love of wisdom is called "philosophy," with which that
book inflamed me. There be some who seduce through
philosophy, under a great, and alluring, and honourable
name colouring and adorning their own errors. And almost
all who in that and former times were such, are in that book
censured and pointed out. There is also disclosed that most
salutary admonition of Thy Spirit, by Thy good and pious
servant: "Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy
and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the ru-
diments of the world, and not after Christ: for in Him
dwelleth all the fulness of the Godhead bodily." And since
at that time (as Thou, O Light of my heart, knowest) the
words of the apostle were unknown to me, I was delighted
with that exhortation, in so far only as I was thereby stim-
ulated, and enkindled, and inflamed to love, seek, obtain,
hold, and embrace, not this or that sect, but wisdom itself,
whatever it were; and this alone checked me thus ardent,
that the name of Christ was not in it. For this name, accord-
ing to Thy mercy, O Lord, this name of my Saviour Thy
Son, had my tender heart piously drunk in, deeply treasured
CHAP. V.] HIS DESIRE FOR TRUTH 47
even with my mother's milk; and whatsoever was without
that name, though never so erudite, polished, and truthful,
took not complete hold of me.
CHAP. v. He rejects the Sacred Scriptures as too simple, and as
not to be compared- with the dignity of TuLly.
9. I resolved, therefore, to direct my mind to the Holy
Scriptures, that I might see what they were. And behold,
I perceive something not comprehended by the proud, not
disclosed to children, but lowly as you approach, sublime as
you advance, and veiled in mysteries j and I was not of the
number of those who could enter into it, or bend my neck
to follow its steps. For not as when now I speak did I feel
when I turned towards those Scriptures, but they appeared
to me to be unworthy to be compared with the dignity of
Tully; for my inflated pride shunned their style, nor could
the sharpness of my wit pierce their inner meaning. Yet,
truly, were they such as would develope in little ones; but I
scorned to be a little one, and, swollen with pride, I looked
upon myself as a great one.
CHAP. vi. Deceived by his own faulty he falls into the errors of
the Manichceans, who gloried in the true knowledge of God y
and in a thorough examination of things.
10. Therefore I fell among men proudly raving, very
carnal, and voluble, in whose mouths were the snares of the
devil the bird-lime being composed of a mixture of the
syllables of Thy name, and of our Lord Jesus Christ, and
of the Paraclete, the Holy Ghost, the Comforter. These
names departed not out of their mouths, but so far forth as
the sound only and the clatter of the tongue, for the heart
was empty of truth. Still they cried, "Truth, Truth," and
48 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK III.
spoke much about it to me, "yet was it not in them 5" but
they spake falsely not of Thee only who, verily, art the
Truth but also of these elements of this world. Thy
creatures. And I, in truth, should have passed by phi-
losophers, even when speaking truth concerning them, for
love of Thee, my Father, supremely good, beauty of all
things beautiful! O Truth, Truth! how inwardly even
then did the marrow of my soul pant after Thee, when they
frequently, and in a multiplicity of ways, and in numerous
and huge books, sounded out Thy name to me, though it
was but a voice! (4) And these were the dishes in which
to me, hungering for Thee, they, instead of Thee, served
up the sun and moon, Thy beauteous works but yet Thy
works, not Thyself, nay, nor Thy first works. For before
these corporeal works are Thy spiritual ones, celestial and
shining though they be. But I hungered and thirsted not
even after those first works of Thine, but after Thee Thy-
self, the Truth, "with whom is no variableness, neither
shadow of turning 5" yet they still served up to me in those
dishes glowing phantasies, than which better were it to love
this very sun (which, at least, is true to our sight), than
those illusions which deceive the mind through the eye.
And yet, because I supposed them to be Thee, I fed upon
them j not with avidity, for Thou didst not taste to my
mouth as Thou art, for Thou wast not these empty fictions 3
neither was I nourished by them, but the rather exhausted.
Food in our sleep appears like our food awake j yet the
sleepers are not nourished by it, for they are asleep. But
those things were not in any way like unto Thee as Thou
hast now spoken unto me, in that those were corporeal
phantasies, false bodies, than which these true bodies,
whether celestial or terrestrial, which we perceive with our
CHAP. VI.] MANICHJEANISM DID NOT SATISFY 49
fleshly sight, are much more certain. These things the very
beasts and birds perceive as well as we, and they are more
certain than when we imagine them. And again, we do
with more certainty imagine them., than by them conceive
of other greater and infinite bodies which have no existence.
With such empty husks was I then fed,, and was not fed.
But Thou, my Love, in looking for whom I fail that I
may be strong, art neither those bodies that we see,
although in heaven, nor art Thou those which we see not
there 5 for Thou hast created them, nor dost Thou reckon
them amongst Thy greatest works. How far, then, art
Thou from those phantasies of mine, phantasies of bodies
which are not at all, than which the images of those bodies
which are, are more certain, and still more certain the bodies
themselves, which yet Thou art not 5 nay, nor yet the soul,
which is the life of the bodies. Better, then, and more
certain is the life of bodies than the bodies themselves. But
Thou art the life of souls, the life of lives, having life in
Thyself j and Thou changest not, O Life of my soul.
u. Where, then, wert Thou then to me, and how far
from me? Far, indeed, was I wandering away from Thee,
being even shut out from the very husks of the swine, whom
with husks I fed. For how much better, then, are the fables
of the grammarians and poets than these snares! For
verses, and poems, and Medea flying, are more profitable
truly than these men's five elements, variously painted, to
answer to the five caves of darkness, none of which exist,
and which slay the believer. For verses and poems I can
turn into true food, but the "Medea flying," though I sang,
I maintained it not 3 though I heard it sung, I believed it
notj but those things I did believe. Woe, woe, by what
steps was I dragged down to "the depths of hell!" toiling
50 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK III
and turmoiling through want of Truth, when I sought after
Thee, my God, to Thee I confess it, who hadst mercy on
me when I had not yet confessed, sought after Thee not
according to the understanding of the mind, in which Thou
desiredst that I should excel the beasts, but according to the
sense of the flesh! Thou wert more inward to me than my
most inward part 5 and higher than my highest. 1 came
upon that bold woman, who "is simple, and knoweth noth-
ing," the enigma of Solomon, sitting "at the door of the
house on a seat," and saying, "Stolen waters are sweet, and
bread eaten in secret is pleasant." This woman seduced me,
because she found my soul beyond its portals, dwelling in
the eye of my flesh, and thinking on such food as through it
I had devoured.
CHAP. vn. He attacks the doctrine of the Manichceans concerning
evil) Gody and the righteousness of the 'patriarchs.
12. For I was ignorant as to that which really is, and was,
as it were, violently moved to give my support to foolish
deceivers, when they asked me, "Whence is evil?" (5)
and, "Is God limited by a bodily shape, and has He hairs
and nails?" and, "Are they to be esteemed righteous who
had many wives at once, and did kill men, and sacrificed
living creatures?" At which things I, in my ignorance, was
much disturbed, and, retreating from the truth, I appeared
to myself to be going towards it 5 because as yet I knew not
that evil was naught but a privation of good, until in the
end it ceases altogether to be; which how should I see, the
sight of whose eyes saw no further than bodies, and of my
mind no further than a phantasm? And I knew not God to
be a Spirit, not one who hath parts extended in length and
breadth, nor whose being was bulk5 for every bulk is less in
CHAP. VII.] LAW OF PROGRESS IN SCRIPTURE 5!
a part than in the whole, and, if it be infinite, it must be
less in such part as is limited by a certain space than in its
infinity 5 and cannot be wholly everywhere, as Spirit, as
God is. And what that should be in us, by which we were
like unto God, and might rightly in Scripture be said to be
after "the image of God," I was entirely ignorant.
13. Nor had I knowledge of that true inner righteous-
ness, which doth not judge according to custom, but out of
the most perfect law of God Almighty, by which the man-
ners of places and times were adapted to those places and
times being itself the while the same always and every-
where, not one thing in one place, and another in another}
according to which Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and
Moses, and David, and all those commended by the mouth
of God were righteous, but were judged unrighteous by
foolish men, judging out of man's judgment, and gauging
by the petty standard of their own manners the manners
of the whole human race. Like as if in an armoury, one
knowing not what were adapted to the several members
should put greaves on his head, or boot himself with a hel-
met, and then complain because they would not fit. Or as
if, on some day when in the afternoon business was for-
bidden, one were to fume at not being allowed to sell as it
was lawful to him in the forenoon. Or when in some house
he sees a servant take something in his hand which the but-
ler is not permitted to touch, or something done behind
a stable Which would be prohibited in the dining-room, and
should be indignant that in one house, and one family, the
same thing is not distributed everywhere to all. Such are
they Who cannot endure to hear something to have been
lawful for righteous men in former times which is not
so now; or that God, for certain temporal reasons^ com-
52 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK III.
manded them one thing, and these another, but both obey-
ing the same righteousness} though they see, in one man,
one day, and one house, different things to be fit for dif-
ferent members, and a thing which was formerly lawful
after a time unlawful that permitted or commanded in
one corner, which done in another is justly prohibited and
punished. Is justice, then, various and changeable? Nay r
but the times over which she presides are not all alike, be-
cause they are times. But men, whose days upon the earth
are few, because by their own perception they cannot har-
monize the causes of former ages and other nations, of
which they had no experience, with these of which they have
experience, though in one and the same body, day, or fam-
ily, they can readily see what is suitable for each member,
season, part, and person to the one they take exception,
to the other they submit.
14. These things I then knew not, nor observed. They
met my eyes on every side, and I saw them not. I composed
poems, in which it was not permitted me to place every
foot everywhere, but in one metre one way, and in another
another, nor even in any one verse the same foot in all
places. Yet the art itself by which I composed had not
different principles for these different cases, but comprised
all in one. Still I saw not how that righteousness, which
good and holy men submitted to, far more excellently and
sublimely comprehended in one all those things which God
commanded, and in no part varied, though in varying times
it did not prescribe all things at once, but distributed and
enjoined what was proper for each. And I, being blind,
blamed those pious fathers, not only for making use of
present things as God commanded and. inspired them to do ?
CHAP. VIII.] AUTHORITY AND MORALS 53
but also for foreshowing things to come as God was reveal-
ing them (6).
CHAP. viil. He argues against the same as to the reason of offences.
15. Can it at any time or place be an unrighteous thing
for a man to love God with all his heart, with all his soul,
and with all his mind, and his neighbour as himself? There-
fore those offences which be contrary to nature are every-
where and at all times to be held in detestation and pun-
ished 5 such were those of the Sodomites, which should all
nations commit, they should all be held guilty of the same
crime by the divine law, which hath not so made men that
they should in that way abuse one another. For even that
fellowship which should be between God and us is violated,
when that same nature of which He is author is polluted by
the perversity pf lust. But those offences which are con-
trary to the customs of men are to be avoided according to
the customs severally prevailing 5 so that an agreement made,
and confirmed by custom or law of any city or Cation, may
not be violated at the lawless pleasure of any, whether citizen
or stranger. For any part which is not consistent with its
whole is unseemly. But when God commands anything
contrary to the customs or compacts of any nation to be
done, though it were never done by them before, it is to be
done 5 and if intermitted it is to be restored, and, if never
established, to be established. For if it be lawful for a
king, in the state over which he reigns, to command that
which neither he himself nor any one before him had com-
manded, and to obey him cannot be held to be inimical to
the public interest, nay, it were so if he were not obeyed
(for obedience to princes is a general compact of human
society), how much more, then, ought we unhesitatingly
54 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK III.
to obey God, the Governor of all His creatures! For as
among the authorities of human society the greater au-
thority is obeyed before the lesser, so must God above all.
1 6. So also in deeds of violence, where there is a desire
to harm, whether by contumely or in jury 5 and both of these
either by reason of revenge, as one enemy against another 5
or to obtain some advantage over another, as the highway-
man to the traveller 5 or for the avoiding of some evil, as
with him who is in fear of another 5 or through envy, as the
unfortunate man to one who is happy; or as he that is
prosperous in anything to him who he fears will become
equal to himself, or whose equality he grieves at; or for the
mere pleasure in another's pains, as the spectators of
gladiators, or the deriders and mockers of others. These
be the chief iniquities which spring forth from the lust of
the flesh, of the eye, and of power, whether singly, or two
together, or all at once. And so do men live in opposition
to the three and seven, that psaltery "of ten strings," Thy
ten commandments, O God most high and most sweet.
But what foul offences can there be against Thee who canst
not be defiled? Or what deeds of violence against Thee
who canst not be harmed? But Thou avengest that which
men perpetrate against themselves, seeing also that when
they sin against Thee, they do wickedly against their own
souls; and iniquity gives itself the lie, either by corrupting
or perverting their nature, which Thou hast made and
ordained, or by an immoderate use of things permitted, or
in "burning" in things forbidden to that use which is against
nature; or when convicted, raging with heart and voice
against Thee, kicking against the pricks; or when, breaking
through the pale of human society, they audaciously rejoice
in private combinations or divisions, according as they have
CHAP. IX.] LOVE OF SELF AND P.RIDE 55
been pleased or offended. And these things are done when-
ever Thou art forsaken, O Fountain of Life, who art the
only and true Creator and Ruler of the universe,, and by a
self-willed pride any one false thing is selected therefrom
and loved. So, then, by a humble piety we return to Thee;
and Thou purgest us from our evil customs, and art merciful
unto the sins of those who confess unto Thee, and dost "hear
the groaning of the prisoner," and dost loosen us from those
fetters which we have forged for ourselves, if we lift not
up against Thee the horns of a false liberty losing all
through craving more, by loving more our own private good
than Thee, the good of all.
CHAP. ix. That the judgment of God and men, as to human acts
of viotence, is different.
17. But amidst these offences of infamy and violence,
and so many iniquities, are the sins of men who are, on the
whole, making progress $ which, by those who judge rightly,
and after the rule of perfection, are censured, yet com-
mended withal, upon the hope of bearing fruit, like as in the
green blade of the growing corn. And there are some which
resemble offences of infamy or violence, and yet are not
sins, because they neither offend Thee, our Lord God, nor
social custom: when, for example, things suitable for the
times are provided for the use of life, and we are uncertain
whether it be out of a lust of having 5 or when acts are pun-
ished by constituted authority for the sake of correction, and
we are uncertain whether it be out of a lust of hurting.
Many a deed, then, which in the sight of men is disap-
proved, is approved by Thy testimony 5 and many a one who
is praised by men is, Thou being witness, condemned; be-
56 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK III.
cause frequently the view of the deed, and the mind of the
doer, and the hidden exigency of the period, severally vary.
But when Thou unexpectedly commandest an unusual and
unthought-of thing yea, even if Thou hast formerly for-
bidden it, and still for the time keepest secret the reason of
Thy command, and it even be contrary to the ordinance of
some society of men, who doubts but it is to be done, inas-
much as that society is righteous which serves Thee? But
blessed are they who know Thy commands! For all things
were done by them who served Thee either to exhibit some-
thing necessary at the time, or to foreshow things to come.
CHAP. x. He reproves the triflings of the Manich&ans as to the
fruits of the earth.
1 8. These things being ignorant of, I derided those holy
servants and prophets of Thine. And what did I gain by
deriding them but to be derided by Thee, being insensibly,
and little by little, led on to those follies, as to credit that
a fig-tree wept when it was plucked, and that the mother-
tree shed milky tears? Which fig notwithstanding, plucked
not by his own but another's wickedness, had some "saint"
eaten and mingled with his entrails, he should breathe out
of it angels j yea, in his prayers he shall assuredly groan
and sigh forth particles of God, which particles of the most
high and true God should have remained bound in that fig
unless they had been set free by the teeth and belly of some
"elect saint"! (7). And I, miserable one, believed that
more mercy was to be shown to the fruits of the earth than
unto men, for whom they were created, for if a hungry
man who was not a Manichsean should beg for any, that
morsel which should be given him would appear, as it were,
condemned to capital punishment.
CHAP. XI.] HIS MOTHER DREAMS OF HIS CONVERSION 57
CHAP, XL He refers to the tears, and the memorable dream con"
cerning her son > granted by God to his mother.
19. And Thou sendedst Thine hand from above, and
drewest my soul out of that profound darkness, when my
mother, Thy faithful one, wept to Thee on my behalf more
than mothers are wont to weep the bodily deaths of their
children. For she saw that I was dead by that faith and
spirit which she had from Thee, and Thou heardest her,
O Lord. Thou heardest her, and despisedst not her tears,
when, pouring down, they watered the earth under her eyes
in every place where she prayed ; yea, Thou heardest her.
For whence was that dream with which Thou consoledst her,
so that she permitted me to live with her, and to have my
meals at the same table in the house, which she had begun to
avoid, hating and detesting the blasphemies of my error?
For she saw herself standing on a certain wooden rule, and
a bright youth advancing towards her, joyous and smiling
upon her, whilst she was grieving and bowed down with
sorrow. But he having inquired of her the cause of her
sorrow and daily weeping (he wishing to teach, as is their
w*ont, and not to be taught), and she answering that it was
my perdition she was lamenting, he bade her rest con-
tented, and told her to behold and see "that where she was,
there was I also." And when she looked she saw me stand-
ing near her on the same rule. Whence was this, unless that
Thine ears were inclined towards her heart? O Thou Good
Omnipotent, who so carest for every one of us as if Thou
caredst for him only, and so for all as if they were but one!
20. Whence was this, also, that when she had narrated
this vision to me, and I tried to put this construction on it,
"That she rather should not despair of being some day what
58 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK III.
I was," she immediately, without hesitation, replied, "No;
for it was not told me that 'where he is, there shalt thou
be/ but 'where thou art, there shall he be 5 "? I confess to
Thee, O Lord, that, to the best of my remembrance (and
I have oft spoken of this), Thy answer through my watchful
mother that she was not disquieted by the speciousness of
my false interpretation, and saw in a moment what was to
be seen, and which I myself had not in truth perceived be-
fore she spake even then moved me more than the dream
itself, by which the happiness to that pious woman, to be
realized so long after, was, for the alleviation of her present
anxiety, so long before predicted. For nearly nine years
passed in which I wallowed in the slime of that deep pit
and the darkness of falsehood, striving often to rise, but
being all the more heavily dashed down. But yet that chaste,
pious, and sober widow (such as Thou lovest), now more
buoyed up with hope, though no whit less zealous in her
weeping and mourning, desisted not, at all the hours of her
supplications, to bewail my case unto Thee. And her prayers
entered into Thy presence, and yet Thou didst still suffer
me to be involved and re-involved in that darkness.
CHAP. xii. The excellent answer of the bishop when referred to
by kis mother as to the conversion of her son.
21. And meanwhile Thou grantedst her another answer,
which I recall j for much I pass over, hastening on to those
things which the more strongly impel me to confess unto
Thee, and much I do not remember. Thou didst grant her
then another answer, by a priest of Thine, a certain bishop,
reared in Thy Church and well versed in Thy books. He,
when this woman had entreated that he would vouchsafe
to have some talk with me, refute my errors, unteach me
<DHAP. xii. ] HIS MOTHER'S ANXIETY 59
evil things, and teach me good (for this he was in the habit
of doing when he found people fitted to receive it), refused.
Very prudently, as I afterwards came to see. For he an-
swered that I was still unteachable, being inflated with the
novelty of that heresy, and that I had already perplexed
divers inexperienced persons with vexatious questions, as
she had informed him. "But leave him alone for a time,"
saith he, "only pray God for him; he will of himself, by
reading, discover what that error is, and how great its
impiety." He disclosed to her at the same time how he
himself, when a little one, had, by his misguided mother,
been given over to the Manichseans, and had not only read,
but even written out almost all their books, and had come
to- see (without argument or proof from any one) how
much that sect was to be shunned, and had shunned it.
Which when he had said, and she would not be satisfied, but
repeated more earnestly her entreaties, shedding copious
tears, that he would see and discourse with me, he, a little
vexed at her importunity, exclaimed, "Go thy way, and God
bless thee, for it is not possible that the son of these tears
should perish." Which* answer (as she often mentioned in
her conversations with me) she accepted as though it were
a voice from heaven.
BOOK FOURTH.
THEN FOLLOWS A PERIOD OF NINE YEARS FROM THE NINETEENTH YEAR
OF HIS AGE, DURING WHICH, HAVING LOST A FRIEND, HE FOLLOWED
THE MANICH^EANS AND WROTE BOOKS ON THE FAIR AND FIT, AND
PUBLISHED A WORK ON THE LIBERAL ARTS, AND THE CATEGORIES OF
ARISTOTLE.
CHAP. I. Concerning that most unhaffy time In which he, being
deceived) deceived others; and concerning the mockers of his
confession*
I. TOURING this space of nine years, then, from my
JL/ nineteenth to my eight and twentieth year, we
went on seduced and seducing, deceived and deceiving, in
divers lusts 5 publicly, by sciences which they style "liberal"
secretly, with a falsity called religion. Here proud, there
superstitious, everywhere vain! Here, striving after the
emptiness of popular fame, even to theatrical applauses, and
poetic contests, and strifes for grassy garlands, and the fol-
lies of shows and the intemperance of desire. There, seek-
ing to be purged from these our corruptions by carrying
food to those who were called "elect" and "holy," out of
which, in the laboratory of their stomachs, they should make
for us angels and gods, by whom we might be delivered.
These things did I follow eagerly, and practise with my
friends by me and with me deceived. Let the arrogant,
and such as have not been yet savingly cast down and stricken
by Thee, O my God, laugh at me 5 but notwithstanding I
would confess to Thee mine own shame in Thy praise. Bear
with me, I beseech Thee, and give me grace to retrace in
my present remembrance the circlings of my past errors,
60
CHAP. II.] HIS EVIL LIFE 6 1
and to "offer to Thee the sacrifice of thanksgiving," For
what am I to myself without Thee, but a guide to mine
own downfall? Or what am I even at the best, but one
sucking Thy milk, and feeding upon Thee, the meat that
perisheth not? But what kind of man is any man, seeing
that he is but a man? Let, then, the strong and the mighty
laugh at us, but let us who are "poor and needy" confess
unto Thee.
CHAP. II. He teaches rhetoric, the only thing he loved, and scorns
the soothsayer who 'promised him victory.
2. In those years I taught the art of rhetoric, and, over-
come by cupidity, put to sale a loquacity by which to
overcome. Yet I preferred Lord, Thou knowest to have
honest scholars (as they are esteemed) 5 and these I, without
artifice, taught artifices, not to be put in practice against the
life of the guiltless, though sometimes for the life of the
guilty. And Thou, O God, from afar sawest me stumbling
in that slippery path, and amid much smoke sending out
some flashes of fidelity, which I exhibited in that my
guidance of such as loved vanity and sought after leasing,
I being their companion. In those years I had one (whom
I knew not in what is called lawful wedlock, but whom my
wayward passion, void of understanding, had discovered),
yet one only, remaining faithful even to her 5 in whom I
found out truly by my own experience what difference there
is between the restraints of the marriage bonds, contracted
for the sake of issue, and the compact of a lustful love,
where children are born against the parents' will, although^
being born, they compel love.
3. I remember, too, that when I decided to compete for
a theatrical prize, a soothsayer demanded of me what I
62 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK IV.
would give him to win ; but I, detesting and abominating
such foul mysteries, answered, "That if the garland were o
imperishable gold, I would not suffer a fly to be destroyed
to secure it for me." For he was to slay certain living
creatures in his sacrifices, and by those honours to invite the
devils to give me their support. But this ill thing I also
refused, not out of a pure love for thee, O God of my heart ;
for I knew not how to love Thee, knowing not how to
conceive aught beyond corporeal brightness. And doth not
a soul, sighing after such-like fictions, commit fornication
against Thee, trust in false things, and nourish the wind?
But I would not, forsooth, have sacrifices offered to devils
on my behalf, though I myself was offering sacrifices to
them by that superstition. For what else is nourishing the
wind but nourishing them, that is, by our wanderings to be-
come their enjoyment and derision?
CHAP. in. Not even the most experienced men could fersuade htm
of the vanity of astrology, to which he was devoted.
4. Those impostors, then, whom they designate Mathe-
maticians, I consulted without hesitation, because they used
no sacrifices, and invoked the aid of no spirit for their divina-
tions, which art Christian and true piety fitly rejects and
condemns. For good it is to confess unto Thee, and to say,
"Be merciful unto me, heal my soul, for I have sinned
against Thee;" and not to abuse Thy goodness for a license
to sin, but to remember the words of the Lord, "Behold,
thou art made whole $ sin no more, lest a worse thing come
unto thee." All of which salutary advice they endeavour to
destroy when they say, "The cause of thy sin is inevitably
determined in heaven 5" and, "This did Venus, or Saturn, or
Mars;" in order that man, forsooth., flesh and blood, and
CHAP. III.] HE CONSULTS DIVINERS 63
proud corruption, may be blameless, while the Creator and
Ordainer of heaven and stars is to bear the blame. And
who is this but Thee, our God, the sweetness and well-spring
of righteousness, who renderest "to every man according to
his deeds," and despisest not "a broken and a contrite heart!"
5. There was in those days a wise man, very skilful in
medicine, and much renowned therein, who had with his
owii proconsular hand put the Agonistic garland upon my
distempered head, not, though, as a physician 3 for this
disease Thou alone , healest, who resistest the proud, and
givest grace to the humble. But didst Thou fail me even by
that old man, or forbear from healing my soul? For when
I had become more familiar with him, and hung assiduously
and fixedly on his conversation (for though couched in sim-
ple language, it was replete with vivacity, life, and earnest-
ness), when he had perceived from my discourse that I was
given to books of the horoscope-casters, he, in a kind and
fatherly manner, advised me to throw them away, and not
vainly bestow the care and labour necessary for useful things
upon these vanities $ saying that he himself in his earlier
years had studied that art with a view to gaining his living
by following it as a profession, and that, as he had under-
stood Hippocrates, he would soon have understood this, and
yet he had given it up, and followed medicine, for no other
reason than that he discovered it to be utterly false, and he,
being a man of character, would not gain his living by be-
guiling people. "But thou," saith he, "who hast rhetoric
to support thyself by, so that thou followest this of free
will, not of necessity all the more, then, oughtest thou to
give me credit herein, who laboured to attain it so perfectly,
as I wished to gain my living by it alone." When I asked
him to account for so many true things being foretold by it,
64 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK. IV.
he answered me (as he could) "that the force o chance,
diffused throughout the whole order of nature, brought this
about. For if when a man by accident opens the leaves of
some poet, who sang and intended something far different,
a verse oftentimes fell out wondrously apposite to the pres-
ent business, it were not to be wondered at," he continued,
"if out of the soul of man, by some higher instinct, not
knowing what goes on within itself, an answer should be
given by chance, not art, which should coincide with the
business and actions of the question."
6. And thus truly, either by or through him, Thou didst
look after me. And Thou didst delineate in my memory
what I might afterwards search out for myself. But at that
time neither he, nor my most dear Nebridius, a youth most
good and most circumspect, who scoffed at that whole stock
of divination, could persuade me to forsake it, the authority
of the authors influencing me still more 5 and as yet I had
lighted upon no certain proof such as I sought whereby
it might without doubt appear that what had been truly fore-
told by those consulted was by accident or chance, not by the
art of the star-gazers.
CHAP. IV. Sorely distressed by weeding at the death of his friend,
he provides consolation for himself.
7. In those years, when I first began to teach rhetoric in
my native town, I had acquired a very dear friend, from
association in our studies, of mine own age, and, like myself,
just rising up into the flower of youth. He had grown up
with me from childhood, and we had been both school-fel-
lows and play-fellows. But he was not then my friend, nor,
indeed, afterwards, as true friendship is; for true it is not
but in such as Thou bindest together, cleaving unto Thee by
CHAP. IV.] HE PROVIDES CONSOLATION FOR HIMSELF 6$
that love which is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy
Ghost, which is given unto us. But yet it was too sweet, be-
ing ripened by the fervour of similar studies. For, from the
true faith (which he, as a youth, had not soundly and thor-
oughly become master of), I had turned him aside towards
those superstitious and pernicious fables which my mother
mourned in me. With me this man's mind now erred, nor
could my soul exist without him. But behold, Thou wert
close behind Thy fugitives at once God of vengeance and
Fountain of mercies, who turnest us to Thyself by wondrous
means. Thou removedst that man from this life when he
had scarce completed one whole year of my friendship, sweet
to me above all the sweetness of that my life.
8. "Who can show forth all Thy praise" which he hath
experienced in himself alone? What was it that Thou didst
then, O my God, and how unsearchable are the depths of
Thy judgments! For when, sore sick of a fever, he long lay
unconscious in a death-sweat, and all despaired of his recov-
ery, he was baptized without his knowledge 5 myself mean-
while little caring, presuming that his soul would retain rather
what it had imbibed from me, than what was done to his un-
conscious body. Far different, however, was it, for he was
revived and restored. Straightaway, as soon as I could talk
to him (which I could as soon as he was able, for I never left
him, and we hung too much upon each other) , I attempted
to jest with him, as if he also would jest with me at that bap-
tism which he had received when mind and senses were in
abeyance, but had now learnt that he had received. But he
shuddered at me, as if I were his enemy 5 and, with a remark-
able and unexpected freedom, admonished me, if I desired
to continue his friend, to desist from speaking to him in such
a way. I, confounded and confused, concealed all my emo-
66 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK IV.
tions, till he should get well, and his health be strong enough
to allow me to deal with him as I wished. But he was with-
drawn from my frenzy, that with Thee he might be pre-
served for my comfort. A few days after, during my ab-
sence, he had a return of the fever, and died.
9. At this sorrow my heart was utterly darkened, and
whatever I looked upon was death. My native country was
a torture to me, and my father's house a wondrous unhappi-
ness; and whatsoever I had participated in with him, want-
ing him, turned into a frightful torture. Mine eyes sought
him everywhere, but he was not granted them 5 and I hated
all places because he was not in them 5 nor could they now
say to me, "Behold, he is coming," as they did when he was
alive and absent. I became a great puzzle to myself, and
asked my soul why she was so sad, and why she so exceed-
ingly disquieted me; but she knew not what to answer me.
And if I said, "Hope thou in God," she very properly obeyed
me not; because that most dear friend whom she had lost
was, being man, both truer and better than that phantasm
she was bid to hope in. Naught but tears were sweet to me,
and they succeeded my friend in the dearest of my aff ections.
CHAP. v. Why weeding is 'pleasant to the wretched.
10. And now, O Lord, these things are passed away, and
time hath healed my wound. May I learn from Thee, who
art Truth, and apply the ear of my heart unto Thy mouth,
that Thou mayest tell me why weeping should be so sweet
to the unhappy. Hast Thou although present everywhere
cast away far from Thee our misery? And Thou abidest
in Thyself, but we are disquieted with divers trials; and yet,
unless we wept in Thine ears, there would be no hope for us
remaining. Whence, then, is it that such sweet fruit is
CHAP. VI.] HIS GRIEF AT THE DEATH OF HIS FRIEND 6j
plucked from the bitterness of life, from groans, tears, sighs,
and lamentations? Is it the hope that Thou hearest us that
sweetens it? This is true of prayer, for therein is a desire
to approach unto Thee. But is it also in grief for a thing
lost, and the sorrow with which I was then overwhelmed?
For I had neither hope of his coming to life again, nor did I
seek this with my tears ; but I grieved and wept only, for
I was miserable, and had lost my joy. Or is weeping a bitter
thing, and for distaste of the things which aforetime we
enjoyed before, and even then, when we are loathing them,
does it cause us pleasure?
CHAP. VI. His friend being snatched away by deathy he imagines
that he remains only as half.
ii. But why do I speak of these things? For this is not
the time to question, but rather to confess unto Thee. Mis-
erable I was, and miserable is every soul fettered by the
friendship of perishable things he is torn to pieces when
he loses them, and then is sensible of the misery which he
had before ever he lost them. Thus was it at that time with
me; I wept most bitterly, and found rest in bitterness. Thus
was I miserable, and that life of misery I accounted dearer
than my friend. For though I would willingly have changed
it, yet I was even more unwilling to lose it than him; yea,
I knew not whether I was willing to lose it even for him, as
is handed down to us (if not an invention) of Pylades and
Orestes," that they would gladly have died one for another,
or both together, it being worse than death to them not to live
together. But there had sprung up in me some kind of feel-
ing, too, contrary to this, for both exceedingly wearisome
was it to me to live, and dreadful to die. I suppose, the more
I loved him, so much the more did I hate and fear, as a most
68 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK IV.
cruel enemy, that death which had robbed me of him 5 and
I imagined it would suddenly annihilate all men, as it had
power over him. Thus, I remember, it was with me. Be-
hold my heart, O my God! Behold and look into me, for I
remember it well, O my Hope! who cleansest me from the
uncleanness of such affections, directing mine eyes towards
Thee, and plucking my feet out of the net. For I was aston-
ished that other mortals lived, since he whom I loved, as if
he would never die, was dead; and I wondered still more
that I, who was to him a second self, could live when he
was dead. Well did one say of his friend, "Thou half of
my soul," for I felt that my soul and his soul were but one
soul in two bodies ; and, consequently, my life was a horror
to me, because I would not live in half. And therefore,
perchance, was I afraid to die, lest he should die wholly
whom I had so greatly loved.
CHAP. vil. Troubled by restlessness and grief, he leaves his coun-
try a second time for Carthage.
12. O madness, which knowest not how to love men as
men should be loved! O foolish man that I then was, en-
during with so much impatience the lot of man! So I fret-
ted, sighed, wept, tormented myself, and took neither rest
nor advice. For I bore about with me a rent and polluted
soul, impatient of being borne by me, and where to repose it
I found not. Not in pleasant groves, not in sport or song,
not in fragrant spots, nor in magnificent banquetings, nor in
the pleasures of the bed and the couch, nor, finally, in books
and songs did it find repose. All things looked terrible, even
the very light itself; and whatsoever was not what he was,
9 was repulsive and hateful, except groans and tears, for in
those alone found I a little repose. But when my soul was
CHAP. VIII.] HE LEAVES THAGASTE 69
withdrawn from them, a heavy burden of misery weighed
me down. To Thee, O Lord, should it have been raised, for
Thee to lighten and avert it. This I knew, but was neither
willing nor able 5 all the more since, in my thoughts of Thee,
Thou wert not any solid or substantial thing to me. For
Thou wert not Thyself, but an empty phantasm, and my
error was my god. If I attempted to discharge my burden
thereon, that it might find rest, it sank into emptiness, and
came rushing down again upon me, and I remained to myself
an unhappy spot, where I could neither stay nor depart from.
For whither could my heart fly from my heart? Whither
could I fly from mine own self? Whither not follow my-
self? And yet fled I from my country 5 for so should my
eyes look less for him where they were not accustomed to
see him. And thus I left the town of Thagaste ? and came
to Carthage.
CHAP. vin. That his grief ceased by time, and the consolation of
friends.
13. Times lose no time, nor do they idly roll through
our senses. They work strange operations on the mind.
Behold, they came and went from day to day, and by com-
ing and going they disseminated in my mind other ideas and
other remembrances, and by little and little patched me up
again with the former kind of delights, unto which that
sorrow of mine yielded. But yet there succeeded, not cer-
tainly Bother sorrows, yet the causes of other sorrows. For
whence had that former sorrow so easily penetrated to the
quick, but that I had poured out my soul upon the dust, m
loving one who must die as if he were never to die? Bmt
what revived and refreshed me especially was the consola-
tions of other friends, with whom I did love what instead
7 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK IV.
of Thee I loved. And this was a monstrous fable and pro-
tracted lie, by whose adulterous contact our soul, which lay
itching in our ears, was being polluted. But that fable would
not die to me so oft as any of my friends died. There were
other things in them which did more lay hold of my mind,
to discourse and jest with them 5 to indulge in an inter-
change of kindness, to read together pleasant books 5 to-
gether to trifle, and together to be earnest j to differ at times
without ill-humour, as a man would do with his own self 5
and even by the infrequency of these differences to give zest
to our more frequent consentings; sometimes teaching,
sometimes being taught; longing for the absent with impa-
tience, and welcoming the coming with joy. These and
similar expressions, emanating from the hearts of those who
loved and were beloved in return, by the countenance, the
tongue, the eyes, and a thousand pleasing movements, were
so much fuel to melt our souls together, and out of many
to make but one.
CHAP. ix. That the love of a human being, however constant In
loving and returning love y perishes ; while he who Loves God
never loses a friend.
14. This is it that is loved in friends 5 and so loved that a
man's conscience accuses itself if he love not him by whom
he is beloved, or love not again him that loves him, expecting
nothing from him but indications of his love. Hence that
mourning if one die, and gloom of sorrow, that steeping of
the heart in tears, all sweetness turned into bitterness, and
upon the loss of the life of the dying, the death of the liv-
ing. Blessed be he who loveth Thee, and his friend in Thee,
and his enemy for Thy sake. For he alone loses none dear
to him to whom all are dear in Him who cannot be lost.
CHAP. X.] ALL THINGS EXIST TO PERISH JI
And who is this but our God, the God that created heaven
and earth, and filleth them, because by filling them He cre-
ated them? None loseth Thee but he who leaveth Thee.
And he who leaveth Thee, whither goeth he, or whither
fleeth he, but from Thee well pleased to Thee angry? For
where doth not he find Thy law in his own punishment?
"And Thy law is the truth," and truth Thou.
CHAP. x. That- all things exist that they may ferish, and that we
are not safe unless God watches over us.
15. "Turn us again, O Lord God of Hosts, cause Thy
face to shine ; and we shall be saved." For whithersoever
the soul of man turns itself, unless towards Thee, it is affixed
to sorrows, yea, though it is affixed to beauteous things with-
out Thee and without itself. And yet they were not unless
they were from Thee. They rise and set; and by rising,
they begin as it were to be; and they grow, that they may
become perfect; and when perfect, they wax old and perish;
and all wax not old, but all perish. Therefore when they
rise and tend to be, the more rapidly they grow that they
may be, so much the more they hasten not to be. This is
the way of them. Thus much hast Thou given them, be-
cause they are parts of things, which exist not all at the
same time, but by departing and succeeding they together
make up the universe, of which they are parts. And even
thus is our speech accomplished by signs emitting a sound;
but this, again, is not perfected unless one word pass away
when it has sounded its part, in order that another may suc-
ceed it. Let my soul praise Thee out of all these things, O
God, the Creator of all; but let not my soul be affixed to
these things by the glue of love, through the senses of the
body. For they go whither they were to go, that they might
72 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK IV.
no longer be; and they rend her with pestilent desires, be-
cause she longs to be, and yet loves to rest in what she loves.
But in these things no place is to be found 5 they stay not
they flee; and who is he that is able to follow them with the
senses of the flesh? Or who can grasp them, even when
they are near? For tardy is the sense of the flesh, because
it is the sense of the flesh, and its boundary is itself. It suf-
ficeth for that for which it was made, but it is not sufficient
to stay things running their course from their appointed start-
ing-place to the end appointed. For in Thy word, by which
they were created, they hear the fiat, "Hence and hitherto. 55
CHAP. xi. That portions of the world are not to be loved; but that
God, their Author y is immutable, and His word eternal.
1 6. Be not foolish, O my soul, and deaden not the ear of
thine heart with the tumult of thy folly. Hearken thou also.
The word itself invokes thee to return 5 and there is the place
of rest imperturbable, where love is not abandoned if itself
abandoneth not. Behold, these things pass away, that others
may succeed them, and so this lower universe be made com-
plete in all its parts. But do I depart anywhere, saith the
word of God? There fix thy habitation. There commit
whatsoever thou hast thence, O my soul; at all events now
thou art tired out with deceits. Commit to truth whatsoever
thou hast from the truth, and nothing shalt thou lose 5 and
thy decay shall flourish again, and all thy diseases be healed,
and thy perishable parts shall be re-formed and renovated,
and drawn together to thee 3 nor shall they put thee down
where themselves descend, but they shall abide with thee,
and continue for ever before God, who abideth and continu-
eth for ever.
r 7. Why, then, be perverse and follow thy flesh ? Rather
CHAP. XII.] LET US LOVE GOD 73
let it be converted and follow thee. Whatever by her thou
feelest, is but in part; and the whole, of which these are
portions, thou art ignorant of, and yet they delight thee.
But had the sense of thy flesh been capable of comprehending
the whole, and not itself also, for thy punishment, been
justly limited to a portion of the whole, thou wouldest that
whatsoever existeth at the present time should pass away,
that so the whole might please thee more. For what we
speak, also by the same sense of the flesh thou hearest; and
yet wouldest not thou that the syllables should stay, but fly
away, that others may come, and the whole be heard. Thus
it is always, when any single thing is composed of many, all
of which exist not together, all together would delight more
than they do simply could all be perceived at once. But far
better than these is He who made, all 5 and He is our God,
and He passeth not away, for there is nothing to succeed
Him. If bodies please thee, praise God for them, and turn
back thy love upon their Creator, lest in those things which
please thee thou displease.
CHAP. xn. Love is not condemned, but love in God, In whom
there is rest through Jesus Christ, is to be preferred*
1 8. If souls please thee, let them be loved in God 5 for
they also are mutable, but in Him are they firmly stablished,
else would they pass, and pass away. In Him, then, let them
be beloved; and draw unto Him along with thee as many
souls as thou canst, and say to them, "Him let us love, Him
let us love; He created these, nor is He far off. For He did
not create them, and then depart; but they are of Him, and
in Him. Behold, there is He wherever truth is known. He
is within the very heart, but yet hath the heart wandered
from Him. Return to your heart, O ye transgressors, and
74 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK IV.
cleave fast unto Him that made you. Stand with Him and
you shall stand fast. Rest in Him, and you shall be at rest.
Whither go ye in rugged paths? Whither go ye? The
good that you love is from Him; and as it has respect unto
Him it is both good and pleasant, and justly shall it be em-
bittered, because whatsoever cometh from Him is unjustly
loved if He be forsaken for it. Why, then, will ye wander
farther and farther in these difficult and toilsome ways?
There is no rest where ye seek it. Seek what ye seek; but
it is not there where ye seek. Ye seek a blessed life in the
land of death; it is not there. For could a blessed life be
where life itself is not?"
19. But our very Life descended hither and bore our
death, and slew it, out of the abundance of His own life; and
thundering He called loudly to us to return hence to Him
into that secret place whence He came forth to us first into
the Virgin's womb, where the human creature was married
to Him, our mortal flesh, that it might not be for ever
mortal, and thence "as a bridegroom coming out of his
chamber, rejoicing as a strong man to run a race." For He
tarried not, but ran crying out by words, deeds, death, life,
descent, ascension, crying aloud to us to return to Him. And
He departed from our sight, that we might return to our
heart, and there find Him. For He departed, and behold,
He is here. He would not be long with us, yet left us not;
for He departed thither, whence He never departed, be-
cause "the world was made by Him." And in this world
He was, and into this world He came to save sinners, unto
whom my soul doth confess, that He may heal it, for it hath
sinned against Him. O ye sons of men, how long so slow of
heart? Even now, after the Life is descended to you, will
ye not ascend and live? But whither ascend ye, when ye
CHAP. XIII.] HE WISHES APPROBATION OF HIERIUS 75
are on high, and set your mouth against the heavens? De-
scend that ye may ascend, and ascend to God. For ye have
fallen by "ascending against Him." Tell them this, that
they may weep in the valley of tears, and so draw them with
thee to God, because it is by His Spirit that thou speakest
thus unto them, if thou speakest burning with the fire of love.
CHAP. xiii. Love originates from grace and beauty enticing us.
20. These things I knew not at that time, and I loved
these lower beauties, and I was sinking to the very depths j
and I said to my friends, "Do we love anything but the beau-
tiful? What, then, is the beautiful? And what is beauty?
What is it that allures and unites us to the things we love 5
for unless there were a grace and beauty in them, they could
by no means attract us to them?" And I marked and per-
ceived that in bodies themselves there was a beauty from
their forming a kind of whole, and another from mutual
fitness, as one part of the body with its whole, or a shoe with
a foot, and so on. And this consideration sprang up in my
mind out of the recesses of my heart, and I wrote books (two
or three, I think) "on the fair and fit." Thou knowest, O
Lord, for it has escaped me 5 for I have them not, but they
have strayed from me, I know not how.
CHAP. xiv. Concerning the books which he wrote <f on the Fair
and Fit" dedicated to Hierius.
21. But what was it that prompted me, O Lord my God,
to dedicate these books to Hierius, an orator of Rome, whom
I knew not by sight, but loved the man for the fame of his
learning, for which he was renowned, and some words of
his which I had heard, and which had pleased me? But the
more did he please me in that he pleased others, who highly
76 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK IV.
extolled him, astonished that a native of Syria, instructed
first in Greek eloquence, should afterwards become a won-
derful Latin orator, and one so well versed in studies pertain-
ing unto wisdom. Thus a man is commended and loved
when absent. Doth this love enter into the heart of the
hearer from the mouth of the commender? Not so. But
through one who loveth is another inflamed. For hence he
loved who is commended when the commender is believed
to praise him with an unfeigned heart 5 that is, when he that
loves him praises him.
22. Thus, then, loved I men upon the judgment of men,
not upon Thine, O my God, in which no man is deceived.
But yet why not as the renowned charioteer, as the hunts-
man, known far and wide by a vulgar popularity but far
otherwise, and seriously, and so as I would desire to be my-
self commended? For I would not that they should com-
mend and love me as actors are, although I myself did
commend and love them, but I would prefer being un-
known than so known, and even being hated than so loved.
Where now are these influences of such various and divers
kinds of loves distributed in one soul? What is it that I am
in love with in another, which, if I did not hate, I should not
detest and repel from myself, seeing we are equally men?
For it does not follow that because a good horse is loved by
him who would not, though he might, be that horse, the same
should therefore be affirmed by an actor, who partakes of
our nature. Do I then love in a man that which I, who am
a man, hate to be? Man himself is a great deep, whose very
hairs Thou numberest, O Lord, and they fall not to the
ground without Thee. And yet are the hairs of his head
more readily numbered than are his affections and the move-
ments of his heart.
CHAP. XV.] HE SEEKS THE PRAISE OF OTHERS 77
23. But that orator was of the kind that I so loved as I
wished myself to be such a one 5 and I erred through an in-
flated pride, and was "carried about with every wind," but
yet was piloted by Thee, though very secretly. And whence
know I, and whence confidently confess I unto Thee that I
loved him more because of the love of those who praised
him, than for the very things for which they praised him?
Because had he been unpraised, and these self-same men had
dispraised him, and with dispraise and scorn told the same
things of him, I should never have been so inflamed and
provoked to love him. And yet the things had not been
different, nor he himself different, but only the affections of
the narrators. See where lieth the impotent soul that is not
yet sustained by the solidity of truth! Just as the blasts of
tongues blow from the breasts of conjecturers, so is it tossed
this way and that, driven forward and backward, and the
Alight is obscured to it and the truth not perceived. And
behold it is before us. And to me it was a great matter that
my style and studies should be known to that man; the which
if he approved, I were the more stimulated, but if he disap-
proved, this vain heart of mine, void of Thy solidity, had
been offended. And yet that "fair and fit," about which I
wrote to him, I reflected on with pleasure, and contemplated
it, and admired it, though none joined me in doing so.
CHAP. XV. While writing, being blinded by corporeal images, he
failed to recognize the spiritual nature of God.
24. But not yet did I perceive the hinge on which this
impotent matter turned in Thy wisdom, O Thou Omnipo-
tent, "who alone doest great wonders }" and my mind ranged
through corporeal forms, and I defined and distinguished as
"fair," that which is so in itself, and "fit," that which is beau-
7 8 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK IV.
tiful as it corresponds to some other thing; and this I sup-
ported by corporeal examples. And I turned my attention
to the nature o the mind, but the false opinions which I
entertained of spiritual things prevented me from seeing the
truth. Yet the very power of truth forced itself on my
gaze, and I turned away my throbbing soul from incorporeal
substance, to lineaments, and colours, and bulky magnitudes.
And not being able to perceive these in the mind, I thought
I could not perceive my mind. And whereas in virtue I
loved peace, and in viciousness I hated discord, in the former
I distinguished unity, but in the latter a kind of division.
And in that unity I conceived the rational soul and the nature
of truth and of the chief good (8) to consist. But in this
division I, unfortunate one, imagined there was I know not
what substance of irrational life, and the nature of the chief
evil, which should not be a substance only, but real life also,
and yet not emanating from Thee, O my God, from whom
are all things. And yet the first I called a Monad, as if it
had been a soul without sex, but the other a Duad, anger in
deeds of violence, in deeds of passion, lust, not knowing
of what I talked. For I had not known or learned that
neither was evil a substance, nor our soul that chief and un-
changeable good.
25. For even as it is in the case of deeds of violence, if
that emotion of the soul from whence the stimulus comes
be depraved, and carry itself insolently and mutinously 5 and
in acts of passion, if that affection of the soul whereby carnal
pleasures are imbibed is unrestrained, so do errors and false
opinions contaminate the life, if the reasonable soul itself
be depraved, as it was at that time in me, who was ignorant
that it must be enlightened by another light that it may be
partaker of truth, seeing that itself is not that nature of truth.
CHAP. XV. | HIS MANICH^EAN VIEWS 79
"For Thou wilt light my candle; the Lord my God will
enlighten my darkness;" and "of His fulness have all we
received/' for "that was the true Light which lighted every
man that cometh into the world;" for in Thee there is "no
variableness, neither shadow of turning."
26. But I pressed towards Thee, and was repelled by
Thee that I might taste of death, for Thou "resistest the
proud." But what prouder than for me, with a marvellous
madness, to assert myself to be that by nature which Thou
art? For whereas I was mutable, so much being clear to
me, for my very longing to become wise arose from the wish
from worse to become better, yet chose I rather to think
Thee mutable, than myself not to be that which Thou art.
Therefore was I repelled by Thee, and Thou resistedst my
changeable stiffneckedness; and I imagined corporeal forms,
and, being flesh, I accused flesh, and, being "a wind that
passeth away," I returned not to Thee, but went wandering
and wandering on towards those things that have no being,
neither in Thee, nor in me, nor in the body. Neither were
they created for me by Thy truth, but conceived by my vain
conceit out of corporeal things. And I used to ask Thy
faithful little ones, my fellow-citizens, from whom I un-
consciously stood exiled, I used flippantly and foolishly to
ask, "Why, then, doth the soul which God created err?" But
I would not permit any one to ask me, "Why, then, doth
God err?" And I contended that Thy immutable substance
erred of constraint, rather than admit that my mutable sub-
stance had gone astray of free will, and erred as a punish-
ment (9).
27. I was about six or seven and twenty years of age
when I wrote those volumes meditating upon corporeal fic-
tions, which clamoured in the ears of my heart. These I
8O CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK IV.
directed, O sweet Truth, to Thy inward melody, pondering
on the "fair and fit," and longing to stay and listen to Thee,
and to rejoice greatly at the Bridegroom's voice, and I could
not 5 for by the voices of my own errors was I driven forth,
and by the weight of my own pride was I sinking into the
lowest pit. For Thou didst not "make me to hear joy and
gladness;" nor did the bones which were not yet humbled
rejoice.
CHAP. xvi. He very easily understood the liberal arts and the
categories of Aristotle^ but without true fruit.
28. And what did it profit me that, when scarce twenty
years old, a book of Aristotle's, entitled The Ten Predica-
mentS) fell into my hands, on whose very name I hung
as on something great and divine, when my rhetoric master
of Carthage, and others who were esteemed learned, referred
to it with cheeks swelling with pride, I read it alone and
understood it? And on my conferring with others, who said
that with the assistance of very able masters who not only
explained it orally, but drew many things in the dust they
scarcely understood it, and could tell me no more about it
than I had acquired in reading it by myself alone? And the
book appeared to me to speak plainly enough of substances,
such as man is, and of their qualities, such as the figure of
a man, of what kind it is; and his stature, how many feet
high; and his relationship, whose brother he is; or where
placed, or when born, or whether he stands or sits, or is shod
or armed, or does or suffers anything; and whatever innu-
merable things might be classed under these nine catego-
ries (10), of which I have given some examples, or under
that chief category of substance.
29. What did all this profit me, seeing it even hindered
CHAP. XVI.] THE CATEGORIES OF ARISTOTLE 8 1
me, when, imagining that whatsoever existed was compre-
hended in those ten categories, I tried so to understand, O
my God, Thy wonderful and unchangeable unity as if Thou
also hadst been subjected to Thine own greatness or beauty,
so that they should exist in Thee as their subject, like as in
bodies, whereas Thou Thyself art Thy greatness and beauty?
But a body is not great or fair because it is a body, seeing
that, though it were less great or fair, it should nevertheless
be a body. But that which I had conceived of Thee was
falsehood, not truth, fictions of my misery, not the sup-
ports of Thy blessedness. For Thou hadst commanded, and
it was done in me, that the earth should bring forth briars
and thorns to me, and that with labour I should get my
bread.
30. And what did it profit me that I, the base slave of
vile affections, read unaided, and understood, all the books
that I could get of the so-called liberal arts? And I took
delight in them, but knew not whence came whatever in them
was true and certain. For my back then was to the light, and
my face towards the things enlightened 5 whence my face,
with which I discerned the things enlightened, was not itself
enlightened. Whatever was written either on rhetoric or
logic, geometry, music, or arithmetic, did I, without any
great difficulty, and without the teaching of any man, un-
derstand, as Thou knowest, O Lord my God, because both
quickness of comprehension and acuteness of perception are
Thy gifts. Yet did I not thereupon sacrifice to Thee. So,
then, it served not to my use, but rather to my destruction,
since I went about to get so good a portion of my substance
into my own power 5 and I kept not my strength for Thee,
but went away from Thee into a far country, to waste it upon
harlotries. For what did good abilities profit me, if I did
82 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK IV
not employ them to good uses? For I did not perceive that
those arts were acquired with great difficulty, even by the
studious and those gifted with genius, until I endeavoured
to explain them to such j and he was the most proficient in
them who followed my explanations not too slowly.
31. But what did this profit me, supposing that Thou, O
Lord God, the Truth, wert a bright and vast body, and I a
piece of that body? Perverseness too great! But such was
I. Nor do I blush, O my God, to confess to Thee Thy mer-
cies towards me, and to call upon Thee I, who blushed not
then to avow before men my blasphemies, and to bark
against Thee. What profited me then my nimble wit in
those sciences and all those knotty volumes, disentangled by
me without help from a human master, seeing that 1 -erred
so odiously, and with such sacrilegious baseness, in the doc-
trine of piety? Or what impediment was it to Thy little
ones to have a far slower wit, seeing that they departed not
far from Thee, that in the nest of Thy Church they might
safely become fledged, and nourish the wings of charity by
the food of a sound faith? O Lord our God, under the
shadow of Thy wings let us hope, defend us, and carry us.
Thou wilt carry us both when little, and even to grey hairs
wilt Thou carry us; for our firmness, when it is Thou, then
is it firmness; but when it is our own, then it is infirmity.
Our good lives always with Thee, from which when we are
averted we are perverted. Let us now, O Lord, return, that
we be not overturned, because with Thee our good lives with-
out any eclipse, which good Thou Thyself art. And we
need not fear lest we should find no place unto which to
return because we fell away from it; for when we were ab-
sent, our home Thy Eternity fell not.
BOOK FIFTH
HE DESCRIBES THE TWENTY-NINTH YEAR OF HIS AGE, IN WHICH, HAVING
DISCOVERED THE FALLACIES OF THE MANICELEANS, HE PROFESSED RHET-
ORIC AT ROME AND MILAN. HAVING HEARD AMBROSE, HE BEGINS TO
COME TO HIMSELF.
CHAP. I. That it becomes the soul to f raise God, and- to confess
unto Him.
I. ' A CCEPT the sacrifice of my confessions by the agency
A- &- of my tongue, which Thou hast formed and quick-
ened, that it may confess to Thy name; and heal Thou all
my bones, and Jet them say, "Lord, who is like unto Thee?**
For neither does he who confesses to Thee teach Thee what
may be passing within him, because a closed heart doth not
exclude Thine eye, nor does man's hardness of heart repulse
Thine hand, but Thou dissolvest it when Thou wiliest, either
in pity or in vengeance, "and there is no one who can hide
himself from Thy heat.' 5 But let my soul praise Thee, that
it may love Thee; and let it confess Thine own mercies to
Thee, that it may praise Thee. Thy whole creation ceaseth
not, nor is it silent in Thy praises neither the spirit of man,
by the voice directed unto Thee, nor animal nor corporeal
things, by the voice of those meditating thereon, so that our
souls may from their weariness arise towards Thee, leaning
on those things which Thou hast made, and passing on to
Thee, who hast made them wonderfully; and there is there
refreshment and true strength.
83
84 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK V.
CHAP. n. On the vanity of those who wish to escape the Omnipo-
tent God.
2. Let the restless and the unjust depart and flee from
Thee. Thou both seest them and distinguishest the shadows.
And lo! all things with them are fair, yet are they them-
selves foul (n). And how have they injured thee? Or
in what have they disgraced Thy government, which is just
and perfect from heaven even to the lowest parts of the
earth. For whither fled they when they fled from Thy pres-
ence? Or where dost Thou not find them? But they fled
that they might not see Thee seeing them, and blinded might
stumble against Thee; since Thou forsakest nothing that
Thou hast made that the unjust might stumble against
Thee, and justly be hurt, withdrawing themselves from Thy
gentleness, and stumbling against Thine uprightness, and
falling upon their own roughness. Forsooth, they know not
that Thou art everywhere whom no place encompasseth, and
that Thou alone art near even to those that remove far from
Thee. Let them, then, be converted and seek Thee ; because
not as they have forsaken their Creator hast Thou forsaken
Thy creature. Let them be converted and seek Thee; and
behold, Thou art there in their hearts, in the hearts of those
who confess to Thee, and cast themselves upon Thee, and
weep on Thy bosom after their obdurate ways, even Thou
gently wiping away their tears. And they weep the more,
and rejoice in weeping, since Thou, O Lord, not man, flesh
and blood, but Thou, Lord, who didst make, remakest and
comfortest them. And where was I when I was seeking
Thee? And Thou wert before me, but I had gone away even
from myself; nor did I find myself, much less Thee!
CHAP. III.] SCIENCE LEADS NOT TO GOD 85
CHAP. in. Having heard Faustus, the most learned bishop of the
Manichcsansy he discerns that God y the Author both of things
animate and inanimate, chiefly has care for the humble.
3. Let me lay bare before my God that twenty-ninth year
of my age. There had at this time come to Carthage a cer-
tain bishop of the Manichseans, by name Faustus, a great
snare of the devil, and many were entangled by him through
the allurement of his smooth speech; the which, although
I did commend, yet could I separate from the truth of those
things which I was eager to learn. Nor did I esteem the
small dish of oratory so much as the science, which this
their so praised Faustus placed before me to feed upon.
Fame, indeed, had before spoken of him to me, as most
skilled in all becoming learning, and pre-eminently skilled in
the liberal sciences. And as I had read and retained in mem-
ory many injunctions of the philosophers, I used to compare
some teachings of theirs with those long fables of the Mani-
chasans; and the former things which they declared, who
could only prevail so far as to estimate this lower world,
while its lord they could by no means find out, seemed to
me the more probable. For Thou art great, O Lord, and
hast "respect unto the lowly, but the proud Thou knowest
afar off." Nor dost Thou draw near but to the contrite heart,
nor art Thou found by the proud, not even could they
number by cunning skill the stars and the sand, and measure
the starry regions, and trace the courses of the planets.
4. For with their understanding and the capacity which
Thou hast bestowed upon them they search out these things;
and much have they found out, and foretold many years be-
fore, the eclipses of those luminaries, the sun and moon, on
what day, at what hour, and from how many particular points
they were likely to come. Nor did their calculation fail
86 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK V.
them 3 and it came to pass even as they foretold. And they
wrote down the rules found out, which are read at this dayj
and from these others foretell in what year, and in what
month of the year, and on what day of the month, and at
what hour of the day, and at what quarter of its light, either
moon or sun is to be eclipsed, and thus it shall be even as it
is foretold. And men who are ignorant of these things mar-
vel and are amazed, and they that know them exult and are
exalted $ and by an impious pride, departing from Thee, and
forsaking Thy light, they foretell a failure of the sun's light
which is likely to occur so long before, but see not their own,
which is now present. For they seek not religiously whence
they have the ability wherewith they seek out these things.
And finding that Thou hast made them, they give not them-
selves up to Thee, that Thou mayest preserve what Thou
hast made, nor sacrifice themselves to Thee, even such as they
have made themselves to bej nor do they slay their own
pride, as fowls of the air, nor their own curiosities, by which
(like the fishes of the sea) they wander over the unknown
paths of the abyss, nor their own extravagance, as the "beasts
of the field," that Thou, Lord, "a consuming fire," mayest
burn up their lifeless cares and renew them immortally t
5. But the way Thy Word, by whom Thou didst make
these things which they number, and themselves who num-
ber, and the sense by which they perceive what they number,
and the judgment out of which they number they knew
not, and that of Thy wisdom there is no number. But the
Only-begotten has been "made unto us wisdom, and right-
eousness, and sanctification," and has been numbered amongst
us, and paid -tribute to Csesar. This way, by which they
might descend to Him from themselves, they knew not;
nor that through Him they might ascend unto Him. This
CHAP. IV,] GOD IS TRUTH 87
way they knew not, and they think themselves exalted with
the stars and shining, and lo! they fell upon the earth, and
"their foolish heart was darkened." They say many true
things concerning the creature 5 but Truth, the Artificer of
the creature, they seek not with devotion, and hence they
find Him not. Or if they find Him, knowing that He is
God, they glorify Him not as God, neither are they thank-
ful, but become vain in their imaginations, and say that they
themselves are wise, attributing to themselves what is Thine j
and by this, with most perverse blindness, they desire to im-
pute to Thee what is their own, forging lies against Thee
who art the Truth, and changing the glory of the incorrupti-
ble God into an image made like corruptible man, and to
birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping things, chang-
ing Thy truth into a lie, and worshipping and serving the
creature more than the Creator.
6. Many truths, however, concerning the creature did I
retain from these men, and the cause appeared to me from
calculations, the succession of seasons, and the visible mani-
festations of the stars j and I compared them with the say-
ings of Manichasus, who in his frenzy has written most ex-
tensively on these subjects, but discovered not any account
either of the solstices, or the equinoxes, the eclipses of the
luminaries, or anything of the kind I had learned in the
books of secular philosophy. But therein I was ordered to
believe, and yet it corresponded not with those rules acknowl-
edged by calculation and my own sight, but was far different.
CHAP. iv. That the knowledge of terrestrial and celestial things
does not give haziness y but the knowledge of God only.
7. Doth, then, O Lord God of truth, whosoever fcnoweth
those things therefore please Thee? For unhappy is the
88 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK V.
man who knoweth all those things, but knoweth Thee not 5
but happy is he who knoweth Thee, though these he may not
know. But he who knoweth both Thee and them is not the
happier on account of them, but is happy on account of Thee
only, if knowing Thee he glorify Thee as God, and gives
thanks, and becomes not vain in his thoughts. But as he is
happier who knows how to possess a tree, and for the use
thereof renders thanks to Thee, although he may not know
how many cubits high it is, or how wide it spreads, than he
that measures it and counts all its branches, and neither owns
it nor knows or loves its Creator j so a just man, whose is
the entire world of wealth, and who, as having nothing, yet
possesseth all things by cleaving unto Thee, to whom all
things are subservient, though he know not even the circles of
the Great Bear, yet it is foolish to doubt but that he may
verily be better than he who can measure the heavens, and
number the stars, and weigh the elements, but is forgetful of
Thee, "who hast set in order all things in number, weight,
and measure."
CHAP. v. Of Manichceus pertinaciously teaching false doctrines,
and proudly arrogating to himself the Holy Spirit.
8. But yet who was it that ordered Manichseus to write
on these things likewise, skill in which was not necessary to
piety? For Thou hast told man to behold piety and wisdom,
of which he might be in ignorance although having a com-
plete knowledge of these other things ; but since, knowing
not these things, he yet most impudently dared to teach
them, it is clear that he had no acquaintance with piety. For
even when we have a knowledge of these worldly matters, it
is folly to make a profession of them} but confession to Thee
is piety. It was therefore with this view that this straying
CHAP. V.] THE PRETENSIONS OF HERETICS 89
one spake much of these matters, that, standing convicted by
those who had in truth learned them, the understanding that
he really had in those more difficult things might be made
plain. For he wished not to be lightly esteemed, but went
about trying to persuade men "that the Holy Ghost, the
Comforter and Enricher of Thy faithful ones, was with full
authority personally resident in him." When, therefore, it
was discovered that his teaching concerning the heavens and
stars, and the motions of sun and moon, was false, though
these things do not relate to the doctrine of religion, yet his
sacrilegious arrogance would become sufficiently evident, see-
ing that not only did he affirm things of which he knew noth-
ing, but also perverted them, and with such egregious vanity
of pride as to seek to attribute them to himself as to a divine
being.
9. For when I hear a Christian brother ignorant of these
things, or in error concerning them, I can bear with patience
to see that man hold to his opinions j nor can I apprehend
that any want of knowledge as to the situation or nature of
this material creation can be injurious to him, so long as he
does not entertain belief in anything unworthy of Thee, O
Lord, the Creator of all. But if he conceives it to pertain
to the form of the doctrine of piety, and presumes to affirm
with great obstinacy that whereof he is ignorant, therein lies
the injury. And yet even a weakness such as this in the dawn
of faith is borne by our Mother Charity, till the new man
may grow up "unto a perfect man," and not be "carried about
with every wind of doctrine." But in him who thus pre-
sumed to be at once the teacher, author, head, and leader of
all whom he could induce to believe this, so that all who fol-
lowed him believed that they were following not a simple
man only, but Thy Holy Spirit, who would not judge that
9O CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK V
such great insanity, when once it stood convicted of false
teaching, should be abhorred and utterly cast off? But I had
not yet clearly ascertained whether the changes of longer
and shorter days and nights, and day and night itself, with
the eclipses of the greater lights, and whatever of the like
kind I had read in other books, could be expounded consist-
ently with his words. Should I have found myself able to
do so, there would still have remained a doubt in my mind
whether it were so or no, although I might, on the strength
of his reputed godliness, rest my faith on his authority.
CHAP. VI. Faustus was indeed an elegant sfeaker, but knew noth-
ing of the liberal sciences.
10. And for nearly the whole of those nine years during
which, with unstable mind, I had been their follower, I had
been looking forward with but too great eagerness for the
arrival of this same Faustus. For the other members of the
sect whom I had chanced to light upon, when unable to
answer the questions I raised, always bade me look forward
to his coming, when, by discoursing with him, these, and
greater difficulties if I had them, would be most easily and
amply cleared away. When at last he did come, I found
him to be a man of pleasant speech, who spoke of the very
same things as they themselves did, although more fluently,
and in better language. But of what profit to me was the
elegance of my cup-bearer, since he offered me not the more
precious draught for which I thirsted? My ears were al-
ready satiated with similar things; neither did they appear to
me more conclusive, because better expressed; nor true, be-
cause oratorical; nor the spirit necessarily wise, because the
face was comely and the language eloquent. But they who
extolled him to me were not competent judges; and there-
CHAP. VI.] THE QUALIFICATIONS OF FAUSTUS <)I
fore, as he was possessed of suavity of speech, he appeared
to them to be prudent and wise. Another sort of persons,
however, was, I was aware, suspicious even of truth itself,
if enunciated in smooth and flowing language. But me, O
my God, Thou hadst already instructed by wonderful and
mysterious ways, and therefore I believe that Thou in-
structedst me because it is truth j nor of truth is there any
other teacher where or whencesoever it may shine upon
us but Thee. From Thee, therefore, I had now learned,
that because a thing is eloquently expressed, it should not of
necessity seem to be true 5 nor, because uttered with stam-
mering lips, should it be false 5 nor, again, perforce true, be-
cause unskilfully delivered 5 nor consequently untrue, be-
cause the language is fine; but that wisdom and folly are
as food both wholesome and unwholesome, and courtly or
simple words as town-made or rustic vessels, and both kinds
of food may be served in either kind of dish.
II. That eagerness, therefore, with which I had so long
waited for this man was in truth delighted with his action
and feeling when disputing, and the fluent and apt words
with which he clothed his ideas. I was therefore filled with
joy, and joined with others (and even exceeded them) in
exalting and praising him. It was, however, a source of an-
noyance to me that I was not allowed at those meetings of
his auditors to introduce and impart any of those questions
that troubled me in familiar exchange of arguments with
him. When I might speak, and began, in conjunction with
my friends, to engage his attention at such times as it
was not unseeming for him to enter into a discussion with
me, and had mooted such questions as perplexed me, I dis-
covered him first to know nothing of the liberal sciences save
grammar, and that only in an ordinary way. Having, how-
92 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK V.
ever, read some of Tully's Orations, a very few books of
Seneca, and some of the poets, and such few volumes of
his own sect as were written coherently in Latin, and being
day by day practised in speaking, he so acquired a sort of
eloquence, which proved the more delightful and enticing
in that it was under the control of ready tact, and a sort of
native grace. Is it not even as I recall, O Lord my God,
Thou judge of my conscience? My heart and my memory
are laid before Thee, who didst at that time direct me by
the inscrutable mystery of Thy Providence, and didst set
before my face those vile errors of mine, in order that I
might see and loathe them.
CHAP. vn. Clearly seeing the fallacies of the ManichceanS) he
retires from them, being remarkably aided by God.
12. For when it became plain to me that he was ignorant
of those arts in which I had believed him to excel, I began
to despair of his clearing up and explaining all the per-
plexities which harassed me: though ignorant of these, how-
ever, he might still have held the truth of piety, had he not
been a Manichsean. For their books are full of lengthy
fables concerning the heaven and stars, the sun and moon,
and I had ceased to think him able to decide in a satisfactory
manner what I ardently desired, whether, on comparing
these things with the calculations I had read elsewhere, the
explanations contained in the works of Manichxus were
preferable, or at any rate equally sound? But when I pro-
posed that these subjects should be deliberated upon and
reasoned out, he very modestly did not dare to endure the
burden. For he was aware that he had no knowledge of
these things, and was not ashamed to confess it. For he
was not one of those loquacious persons, many of whom I
CHAP. VII.] FAUSTUS DISILLUSIONS HIM 93
had been troubled with, who covenanted to teach me these
things, and said nothing; but this man possessed a heart,
which, though not right towards Thee, yet was not alto-
gether false towards himself. For he was not altogether
ignorant of his own ignorance, nor would he without due
consideration be inveigled in a controversy, from which he
could neither draw back nor extricate himself fairly. And
for that I was even more pleased with him, for more beau-
tiful is the modesty of an ingenuous mind than the acquisi-
tion of the knowledge I desired, and such I found him to
be in all the more abstruse and subtle questions.
13. My eagerness after the writings of Manichasus hav-
ing thus received a check, and despairing even more of their
other teachers, seeing that in sundry things which puzzled
me, he, so famous amongst them, had thus turned out, I
began to occupy myself with him in the study of that litera-
ture which he also much affected, and which I, as Professor
of Rhetoric, was then engaged in teaching the young Cartha-
ginian students, and in reading with him either what he
expressed a wish to hear, or I deemed suited to his bent of
mind. But all my endeavours by which I had concluded to
improve in that sect, by acquaintance with that man, came
completely to an end: not that I separated myself alto-
gether from them, but, as one who could find nothing better,
I determined in the meantime upon contenting myself with
what I had in any way lighted upon, unless, by chance, some-
thing more desirable should present itself. Thus that
Faustus, who had entrapped so many to their death,
neither willing nor witting it, now began to loosen the
snare in which I had been taken. For Thy hands, O my
God, in the hidden design of Thy Providence, did not desert
my soul; and out of the blood of my mother's heart, through
94 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK V*
the tears that she poured out by day and by night, was a
sacrifice offered unto Thee for me ; and by marvellous ways
didst Thou deal with me. It was Thou, O my God, who
didst it, for the steps of a man are ordered by the Lord,
and He shall dispose his way. Or how can we procure sal-
vation but from Thy hand, remaking what it hath made?
CHAP. vill. He sets out for Rome, his mother in vain lamenting it.
14. Thou dealedst with me, therefore, that I should be
persuaded to go to Rome, and teach there rather what I was
then teaching at Carthage. And how I was persuaded to do
this, I will not fail to confess unto Thee 5 for in this also
the profoundest workings of Thy wisdom, and Thy ever
present mercy to usward, must be pondered and avowed. It
was not my desire to go to Rome because greater advantages
and dignities were guaranteed me by the friends who per-
suaded me into this, although even at this period I was in-
fluenced by these considerations, but my principal and
almost sole motive was, that I had been informed that the
youths studied more quietly there, and were kept under
by the control of more rigid discipline, so that they did not
capriciously and impudently rush into the school of a master
not their own, into whose presence they were forbidden to
enter unless with his consent. At Carthage, on the contrary,
there was amongst the scholars a shameful and intemperate
license. They burst in rudely, and, with almost furious
gesticulations, interrupt the system which any one may have
instituted for the good of his pupils. Many outrages they
perpetrate with astounding phlegm, which would be pun-
ishable by law were they not sustained by custom 5 that
custom showing them to be the more worthless, in that they
now do, as according to law, what by Thy unchangeable
CHAP. VIII.] HE DECEIVES HIS MOTHER 95
law will never be lawful. And they fancy they do it with
impunity, whereas 'the very blindness whereby they do it is
their punishment, and they suffer far greater things than
they do. The manners, then, which as a student I would not
adopt, I was compelled as a teacher to submit to from others;
and so I was too glad to go where all who knew anything
about it assured me that similar things were not done. But
Thou, "my refuge and my portion in the land of the liv-
ing, 35 didst while at Carthage goad me, so that I might
thereby be withdrawn from it, and exchange my worldly
habitation for the preservation of my soul 5 whilst at Rome
Thou didst offer me enticements by which to attract me
there, by men enchanted with this dying life, the one doing
insane actions, and the other making assurances of vain
things and, in order to correct my footsteps, didst secretly
employ their and my perversity. For both they who dis-
turbed my tranquillity were blinded by a shameful madness,
and they who allured me elsewhere smacked of the earth.
And I, who hated real misery here, sought fictitious hap-
piness there.
15. But the cause of my going thence and going thither,
Thou, O God, knewest, yet revealedst it not, either to me
or to my mother, who grievously lamented my journey,
and went with me as far as the sea. But I deceived her,
when she violently restrained me either that she might
retain me or accompany me, and I pretended that I had
a friend whom I could not quit until he had a favourable
wind to set sail. And I lied to my mother and such a
mother! and got away. For this also Thou hast in mercy
pardoned me, saving me, thus replete with abominable pol-
lutions, from the waters of the sea, for the water of Thy
grace, whereby, when I was purified, the fountains of my
96 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK V.
mother's eyes should be dried, from which for me she day
by day watered the ground under her face. And yet, re-
fusing to go back without me, it was with difficulty 1 per-
suaded her to remain that night in a place quite close to
our ship, where there was an oratory in memory of the
blessed Cyprian. That night I secretly left, but she was not
backward in prayers and weeping. And what was it, O
Lord, that she, with such an abundance of tears, was asking
of Thee, but that Thou wouldest not permit me to sail?
But Thou, mysteriously counselling and hearing the real
purpose of her desire, granted not what she then asked, in
order to make me what she was ever asking. The wind
blew and filled our sails, and withdrew the shore from our
sight j and she, wild with grief, was there on the morrow,
and filled Thine ears with complaints and groans, which
Thou didst disregard j whilst, by the means of my longings,
Thou wert hastening me on to the cessation of all longing,
and the gross part of her love to me was whipped out by the
just lash of sorrow. But, like all mothers, though even
more than others, she loved to have me with her, and
knew not what joy Thou wert preparing for her by my
absence. Being ignorant of this, she did weep and mourn,
and in her agony was seen the inheritance of Eve, seeking
in sorrow what in sorrow she had brought forth. And yet,
after accusing my perfidy and cruelty, she again continued
her intercessions for me with Thee, returned to her accus-
tomed place, and I to Rome.
CHAP. ix. Betng attacked by fever, he is in great danger.
1 6. And behold, there was I received by the scourge of
bodily sickness, and I was descending into hell burdened
with all the sins that I had committed, both against Thee,
CHAP. IX.] HOW HIS MOTHER YEARNS FOR HIM 97
myself^ and others, many and grievous, over and above that
bond of original sin whereby we all die in Adam. For
none of these things hadst Thou forgiven me in Christ,
neither had He "abolished 55 by His cross "the enmity"
Which, by my sins, I had incurred with Thee. For how
could He, by the crucifixion of a phantasm, which 1 supposed
Him to be? As true, then, was the death of my soul, as
that of His flesh appeared to me to be untrue j and as true
the death of His flesh as the life of my soul, which believed
it not, was false. The fever increasing, I was now passing
away and perishing. For had I then gone hence, whither
should I have gone but into the fiery torments meet for my
misdeeds, in the truth of Thy ordinance? She was ignorant
of this, yet, while absent, prayed for me. But Thou, every-
where present, hearkened to her where she was, and hadst
pity upon me where I was, that I should regain my bodily
health, although still frenzied in my sacrilegious heart. For
all that peril did not make me wish to be baptized, and I
was better when, as a lad, I entreated it of my mother's
piety, as I have already related and confessed. But I had
grown up to my own dishonour, and all the purposes of Thy
medicine I madly derided, who wouldst not suffer me,
though such a one, to die a double death. Had my mother's
heart been smitten with this wound, it never could have
been cured. For I cannot sufficiently express the love she
had for me, nor how she now travailed for me in the spirit
with a far keener anguish than when she bore me in the
flesh.
17. I cannot conceive, therefore, how she could have
been healed if such a death of mine had transfixed the
bowels of her love. Where then would have been her so
earnest, frequent, and unintermitted prayers to Thee alone?
98 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK V.
But couldst Thou, most merciful God, despise the "contrite
and humble heart" of that pure and prudent widow, so
constant in alms-deeds, so gracious and attentive to Thy
saints, not permitting one day to pass without oblation at
Thy altar, twice a day, at morning and even-tide, coming to
Thy church without intermission not for vain gossiping,
nor old wives' "fables," but in order that she might listen
to Thee in Thy sermons, and Thou to her in her prayers?
Couldst Thou Thou by whose gift she wus such despise
and disregard without succouring the tears of such a one,
wherewith she entreated Thee not for gold or silver, nor
for any changing or fleeting good, but for the salvation of
the soul of her son? By no means, Lord. Assuredly Thou
wert near, and wert hearing and doing in that method in
which Thou hadst predetermined that it should be done.
Far be it from Thee that Thou shouldst delude her in
those visions and the answers she had from Thee, some
of which I have spoken of, and others not, which she kept
in her faithful breast, and, always petitioning, pressed upon
Thee as Thine autograph. For Thou, "because Thy mercy
endureth for ever," condescendest to those whose debts
Thou hast pardoned, to become likewise a debtor by Thy
promises.
CHAP. x. When he had left the Manichceans, he retained his
def raved opinions concerning God > sln y and the origin of the Saviour.
1 8. Thou restoredst me then from that illness, and made
sound the son of Thy handmaid meanwhile in body, that
he might live for Thee, to endow him with a higher and
more enduring health. And even then at Rome I joined
those deluding and deluded "saints $" not their "hearers"
only, of the number of whom was he in whose house I
CHAP. X.] HIS UNSETTLED STATE OF MIND 99
had fallen ill, and had recovered, but those also whom
they designate "The Elect." For it still seemed to me
"that it was not we that sin, but that I know not what other
nature sinned in us." And it gratified my pride to be free
from blame, and, after I had committed any fault, not to
acknowledge that I had done any, "that Thou mightest
heal my soul because it had sinned against Thee 5" but I
loved to excuse it, and to accuse something else (I wot not
What) which was with me, but was not I. But assuredly it
was wholly I, and my impiety had divided me against my-
self j and that sin was all the more incurable in that I did
not deem myself a sinner. And execrable iniquity it was,
O God omnipotent, that I would rather have Thee to be
overcome in me to my destruction, than myself of Thee to
salvation! Not yet, therefore, hadst Thou set a watch
before my mouth, and kept the door of my lips, that my
heart might not incline to wicked speeches, to make excuses
of sins, with men that work iniquity and, therefore, was I
still united with their "Elect."
19. But now, hopeless of making proficiency in that false
doctrine, even those things with which I had decided upon
contenting myself, providing that I could find nothing bet-
ter, I now held more loosely and negligently. For I was
half inclined to believe that those philosophers whom they
call "Academics" (12) were more sagacious than the rest,
in that they held that we ought to doubt everything, and
ruled that man had not the power of comprehending any
truth j for so, not yet realizing their meaning, I also was
fully persuaded that they thought just as they are commonly
held to do. And I did not fail frankly to restrain in my
host that assurance which I observed him to have in those
fictions of which the works of Manichseus are full. Not-
IOO CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK V.
withstanding, I was on terms of more intimate friendship
with them than with others who were not of this heresy.
Nor did I defend it with my former ardour 5 still my fa-
miliarity with that sect (many of them being concealed in
Rome) made me slower to seek any other way, particularly
since I was hopeless of finding the truth, from which in Thy
Church, O Lord of heaven and earth, Creator of all things
visible and invisible, they had turned me aside, and it
seemed to me most unbecoming to believe Thee to have the
form of human flesh, and to be bounded by the bodily
lineaments of our members. And because, when I desired
to meditate on my God, I knew not what to think of but a
mass of bodies (for what was not such did not seem to me to
be), this was the greatest and almost sole cause of my
inevitable error.
20. For hence I also believed evil to be a similar sort of
substance, and to be possessed of its own foul and misshapen
mass whether dense, which they denominated earth, or
thin and subtle, as is the body of the air, which they fancy
some malignant spirit crawling through that earth. And
because a piety such as it was compelled me to believe
that the good God never created any evil nature, I conceived
two masses, the one opposed to the other, both infinite, but
the evil the more contracted, the good the more expansive.
And from this mischievous commencement the other pro-
fanities followed on me. For when my mind tried to revert
to the Catholic faith, I was cast back, since what I had held
to be the Catholic faith was not so. And it appeared to me
more devout to look upon Thee, my God, to whom I make
confession of Thy mercies, as infinite, at least, on other
sides,. although on that side where the mass of evil was in
opposition to Thee I was compelled to confess Thee finite.
CHAP. XI.] HIS ERRONEOUS VIEWS OF CHRISTIANITY IOI
than if on every side I should conceive Thee to be confined
by the form of a human body. And better did it seem to me
to believe that no evil had been created by Thee which to
me in my ignorance appeared not only some substance, but
a bodily one, because I had no conception of the mind except-
ing as a subtle body, and that diffused in local spaces than
to believe that anything could emanate from Thee of such a
kind as I considered the nature of evil to be. And our very
Saviour Himself, also, Thine only-begotten, I believed to
have been reached forth, as it were, for our salvation out of
the lump of Thy most effulgent mass, so as to believe
nothing of Him but what I was able to imagine in my vanity.
Such a nature, then, I thought could not be born of the
Virgin Mary without being mingled with the flesh 5 and how
that which I had thus figured to myself could be mingled
without being contaminated, I saw not. I was afraid, there-
fore, to believe Him to be born in the flesh, lest I should be
compelled to believe Him contaminated by the flesh. Now
will Thy spiritual ones blandly and lovingly smile at me if
they shall read these my confessions; yet such was L
CHAP. xi. Hetyidius disputed well against the Manich&ans as to
the authenticity of the New Testament.
21. Furthermore, whatever they had censured in Thy
Scriptures I thought impossible to be defended; and yet
sometimes, indeed, I desired to confer on these several points
with some one well learned in those books, and to try what
he thought of them. For at this time the words of one
Helpidius, speaking and disputing face to face against the
said Manichasans, had begun to move me even at Carthage,
in that he brought forth things from the Scriptures not easily
withstood, to which their answer appeared to me feeble.
IO2 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK V.
And this answer they did not give forth publicly, but only
to us in private, when they said that the writings of the
New Testament had been tampered with by I know not
whom, who were desirous of ingrafting the Jewish law upon
the Christian faith j but they themselves did not bring for-
ward any uncorrupted copies. But I, thinking of corporeal
things, very much ensnared and in a measure stifled, was
oppressed by those masses 5 panting under which for the
breath of Thy Truth, I was not able to breathe it pure and
undefiled.
CHAP. xn. Professing Rhetoric at Rome, he discovers the fraud
of his scholars.
22. Then began I assiduously to practise that for which
I came to Rome the teaching of rhetoric j and first to bring
together at my home some to whom, and through whom, I
had begun to be known j when, behold, I learnt that other
offences were committed in Rome which I had not to bear in
Africa. For those subvertings by abandoned young men
were not practised here, as I had been informed; yet, sud-
denly, said they, to evade paying their master's fees, many
of the youths conspire together, and remove themselves to
another, breakers of faith, who, for the love of money, set
a small value on justice. These also my heart "hated,"
though not with a "perfect hatred j" for, perhaps, I hated
them more in that I was to suffer by them, than for the illicit
acts they committed. Such of a truth are base persons, and
they are unfaithful to Thee, loving these transitory mock-
eries of temporal things, and vile gain, which begrimes the
hand that lays hold on it j and embracing the fleeting world,
and scorning Thee, who abidest, and invitest to return, and
pardonest the prostituted human soul when it returneth to
CHAP. XIII.] HE IS SENT TO MILAN 1 03
Thee. And now I hate such crooked and perverse men,
although I love them if they are to be corrected so as to
prefer the learning they obtain to money, and to learning
Thee, O God, the truth and fulness of certain good and most
chaste peace. But then was the wish stronger in me for my
own sake not to suffer them evil, than was the wish that they
should become good for Thine.
CHAP. xm. He is sent to Milan, that he, about to teach Rhetoric >
may be known by Ambrose.
23. When, therefore, they of Milan had sent to Rome to
the prefect of the city, to provide them with a teacher of
rhetoric for their city, and to despatch him at the public
expense, I made interest through those identical persons,
drunk with Manichsean vanities, to be freed from whom I
was going away, neither of us, however, being aware of
it, that Symmachus, the then prefect, having proved me by
proposing a subject, would send me. And to Milan I came,
unto Ambrose the bishop, known to the whole world as
among the best of men, Thy devout servant 5 whose eloquent
discourse did at that time strenuously dispense unto Thy
people the flour of Thy wheat, the "gladness" of Thy "oil,"
and the sober intoxication of Thy "wine." To him was I
unknowingly led by Thee, that by him I might knowingly be
led to Thee. That man of God received me like a father,
and looked with a benevolent and episcopal kindliness on my
change of abode. And I began to love him, not at first,
indeed, as a teacher of the truth, which I entirely despaired
of in Thy Church, but as a man friendly to myself. And
I studiously hearkened to him preaching to the people, not
with the motive I should, but, as it were, trying to discover
whether his eloquence came up to the fame thereof ^ or flowed
104 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK V.
fuller or lower than was asserted 5 and I hung on his words
intently, but of the matter I was but as a careless and con-
temptuous spectator; and I was delighted with the pleasant-
ness of his speech, more erudite, yet less cheerful and sooth-
ing in manner, than that of Faustus. Of the matter, how-
ever, there could be no comparison ; for the latter was stray-
ing amid Manichsean deceptions, whilst the former was
teaching salvation most soundly. But "salvation is far from
the wicked," such as I then stood before him; and yet I was
drawing nearer gradually and unconsciously.
CHAP. xiv. Having heard the Bishop, he perceives the force of
the Catholic faith y yet doubts, after the manner of the modern
Academics.
24. For although I took no trouble to learn what he
spake, but only to hear how he spake (for that empty care
alone remained to me, despairing of a way accessible for man
to Thee), yet, together with the words which I prized, there
came into my mind also the things about which I was care-
less; for I could not separate them. And whilst I opened
my heart to admit "how skilfully he spake," there also en-
tered with it, but gradually, "and how truly he spake!"
For first, these things also had begun to appear to me to be
defensible; and the Catholic faith, for which I had fancied
nothing could be said against the attacks of the Manichseans,
I now conceived might be maintained without presumption;
especially after I had heard one or two parts of the Old
Testament explained, and often allegorically which when
I accepted literally, I was "killed" spiritually. Many places,
then, of those books having been expounded to me, I now
blamed my despair in having believed that no reply could be
made to those who hated and derided the Law and the
CHAP. XIV.] HE DECIDES TO ABANDON MANICH^ANS IO5
Prophets. Yet I did not then see that for that reason the
Catholic way was to be held because it had its learned advo-
cates, who could at length, and not irrationally, answer
objections; nor that what I held ought therefore to be con-
demned because both sides were equally defensible. For
that way did not appear to me to be vanquished 5 nor yet did
it seem to me to be victorious.
25. Hereupon did I earnestly bend my mind to see if in
any way I could possibly prove the Manichseans guilty of
falsehood. Could I have realized a spiritual substance, all
their strongholds would have been beaten down, and cast
utterly out of my mind ; but I could not. But yet, concern-
ing the body of this world, and the whole of nature, which
the senses of the flesh can attain unto, I, now more and more
considering and comparing things, judged that the greater
part of the philosophers held much the more probable opin-
ions. So, then, after the manner of the Academics (as they
are supposed), doubting of everything and fluctuating be-
tween all, I decided that the Manichseans were to be aban-
doned 5 judging that, even while in that period of doubt, I
could not remain in a sect to which I preferred some of the
philosophers j to which philosophers, however, because they
were without the saving name of Christ, I utterly refused to
commit the cure of my fainting soul. I resolved, therefore,
to be a catechumen in the Catholic Church, which my parents
had commended to me, until something settled should mani-
fest itself to me whither I might steer my course*
BOOK SIXTH
ATTAINING HIS THIRTIETH YEAR, HE, UNDER THE ADMONITION OF THE
DISCOURSES OF AMBROSE, DISCOVERED MORE AND MORE THE TRUTH OF
THE CATHOLIC DOCTRINE, AND DELIBERATES AS TO THE BETTER REGU-
LATION OF HIS LIFE.
CHAP. I. His -mother having followed him to Milan y declares that
she will not die before her son shall have embraced the Catholic
faith.
I. /~\ THOU, my hope from my youth, where wert
V-/ Thou to me, and whither hadst Thou gone? For
in truth, hadst Thou not created me, and made a difference
between me and the beasts of the field and fowls of the air?
Thou hadst made me wiser than they, yet did I wander about
in dark and slippery places, and sought Thee abroad out of
myself, and found not the God of my heart j and had entered
the depths of the sea, and distrusted and despaired finding
out the truth. By this time my mother, made strong by her
piety, had come to me, following me over sea and land, in all
perils feeling secure in Thee. For in the dangers of the sea
she comforted the very sailors (to whom the inexperienced
passengers, when alarmed, were wont rather to go for com-
fort), assuring them of a safe arrival, because she had been
so assured by Thee in a vision. She found me in grievous
danger, through despair of ever finding truth. But when
I had disclosed to her that I was now no longer a Manichsean,
though not yet a Catholic Christian, she did not leap for joy
as at what was unexpected; although she was now reassured
as to that part of my misery for which she had mourned
jo 6
CHAP. II.] THE HONOUR DONE TO THE MARTYRS 107
me as one dead, but who would be raised to Thee, carrying
me forth upon the bier of her thoughts, that Thou mightest
say unto the widow's son, "Young man, I say unto Thee,,
arise," and he should revive, and begin to speak, and Thou
shouldest deliver him to his mother. Her heart, then, was
not agitated with any violent exultation, when she had heard
that to be already in so great a part accomplished which she
daily, with tears, entreated of Thee might be done, that
though I had not yet grasped the truth, I was rescued from
falsehood. Yea, rather, for that she was fully confident
that Thou, who hadst promised the whole, wouldst give the
rest, most calmly, and with a breast full of confidence, she
replied to me, "She believed in Christ, that before she de-
parted this life, she would see me a Catholic believer." And
thus much said she to me; but to Thee, O Fountain of
mercies, poured she out more frequent prayers and tears,
that Thou wouldest hasten Thy aid, and enlighten my dark-
ness 5 and she hurried all the more assiduously to the church,
and hung upon the words of Ambrose, praying for the
fountain of water that springeth up into everlasting life.
For she loved that man as an angel of God, because she knew
that it was by him that I had been brought, for the present,
to that perplexing state of agitation I was now in, through
which she was fully persuaded that I should pass from sick-
ness unto health, after an access, as it were, of a sharper fit,
which doctors term the "crisis."
CHAP. II. She, on the 'prohibition of Ambrose, abstains from hon-
ouring the memory of the martyrs*
2. When, therefore, my mother had at one time as was
her custom in Africa brought to the oratories built in the
memory of the saints certain cakes, and bread, and wine, and
IO8 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VI.
was forbidden by the door-keeper, so soon as she learnt that
it was the bishop who had forbidden it, she so piously and
obediently acceded to it, that I myself marvelled how readily
she could bring herself to accuse her own customs, rather
than question his prohibition. For wine-bibbing did not take
possession of her spirit, nor did the love of wine stimulate
her to hatred of the truth, as it doth too many, both male
and female, who nauseate at a song of sobriety, as men well
drunk at a draught of water. But she, when she had brought
her basket with the festive meats, of which she would taste
herself first and give the rest away, would never allow her-
self more than one little cup of wine diluted according to her
own temperate palate, which, out of courtesy, she would
taste. And if there were many oratories of departed saints
that ought to be honoured in the same way, she still carried
round with her the selfsame cup, to be used everywhere 5 and
th*s, which was not only very much watered, but was also
very tepid with carrying about, she would distribute by small
sips to those around; for she sought their devotion, not
pleasure. As soon, therefore, as she found this custom to be
forbidden by that famous preacher and most pious prelate,
even to those who would use it with moderation, lest thereby
an occasion of excess might be given to such as were drunken,
and because these, so to say, festivals in honour of the dead
were very like unto the superstition of the Gentiles, she most
willingly abstained from it. And in lieu of a basket filled
with fruits of the earth, she had learned to bring to the
oratories of the martyrs a heart full of more purified peti-
tions, and to give all that she could to the poor j that so the
communion of the Lord's body might be rightly celebrated
there, where, after the example of His passion, the martyrs
had been sacrificed and crowned. But yet it seems to me,
CHAP, in.] MONICA'S OBEDIENCE TO AMBROSE 109
O Lord my God, and thus my heart thinks of it in thy sight,
that my mother perhaps would not so easily have given way
to the relinquishment of this custom had it been forbidden
by another whom she loved not as Ambrose, whom, out of
regard for my salvation, she loved most dearly; and he
loved her truly, on account of her most religious conversa-
tion, whereby, in good works so "fervent in spirit," she fre-
quented the church; so that he would often, when he saw me,
burst forth into her praises, congratulating me that I had
such a mother little knowing what a son she had in me,
who was in doubt as to all these things, and did not imagine
the way of life could be found out.
CHAP. in. As Ambrose was occulted with business and study,
Augustine could seldom consult him concerning the Holy
Scriptures.
3. Nor did I now groan in my prayers that Thou
wouldest help me; but my mind was wholly intent on knowl-
edge, and eager to dispute. And Ambrose himself I esteemed
a happy man, as the world counted happiness, in that such
great personages held him in honour; only his celibacy ap-
peared to me a painful thing. But what hope he cherished,
what struggles he had against the temptations that beset his
very excellences, what solace in adversities, and what savoury
joys Thy bread possessed for the hidden mouth of his heart
when ruminating on it, I could neither conjecture, nor had I
experienced. Nor did he know my embarrassments, nor the
pit of my danger. For I could not request of him what I
wished as I wished, in that I was debarred from hearing and
speaking to him by crowds of busy people, whose infirmities
he devoted himself to. With whom when he was not en-
gaged (which was but a little time), he either was refreshing
HO CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VI.
4
his body with necessary sustenance, or his mind with reading.
But while reading, his eyes glanced over the pages, and his
heart searched out the sense, but his voice and tongue were
silent. Ofttimes, when we had come (for no one was for-
bidden to enter, nor was it his custom that the arrival of those
who came should be announced to him), we saw him thus
reading to himself, and never otherwise 5 and, having long
sat in silence (for who durst interrupt one so intent?), we
were fain to depart, inferring that in the little time he
secured for the recruiting of his mind, free from the clamour
of other men's business, he was unwilling to be taken off.
And perchance he was fearful lest, if the author he studied
should express aught vaguely, some doubtful and attentive
hearer should ask him to expound it, or to discuss some of
the more abstruse questions, as that, his time being thus oc-
cupied, he could not turn over as many volumes as he
wished; although the preservation of his voice, which was
very easily weakened, might be the truer reason for his read-
ing to himself. But whatever was his motive in so doing,
doubtless in such a man was a good one.
4. But verily no opportunity could I find of ascertain-
ing what I desired from that Thy so holy oracle, his breast,
unless the thing might be entered into briefly. But those
surgings in me required to find him at full leisure, that I
might pour them out to him, but never were they able to
find him so; and I heard him, indeed, every Lord's day,
"rightly dividing the word of truth 7 ' among the people;
and I was all the more convinced that all those knots of
crafty calumnies, which those deceivers of ours had knit
against the divine books, could be unravelled. But so soon
as I understood, withal, that man made "after the image
of Him that created him" was not so understood by Thy
CHAP. IV.] HE RECOGNIZES FALSITY OF HIS OPINIONS III
spiritual sons (whom of the Catholic mother Thou hadst
begotten again through grace), as though they believed and
imagined Thee to be bounded by human form, although
what was the nature of a spiritual substance I had not the
faintest or dimmest suspicion, yet rejoicing, I blushed that
for so many years I had barked, not against the Catholic
faith, but against the fables of carnal imaginations. For I
had been both impious and rash in this, that what I ought
inquiring to have learnt, I had pronounced on condemning.
For Thou, O most high and most near, most secret, yet most
present, who hast not limbs some larger some smaller, but
art wholly everywhere, and nowhere in space, nor art Thou
of such corporeal form, yet hast Thou created man after
Thine own image, and, behold, from head to foot is he
confined by space.
CHAP. iv. He recognizes the falsity of his own opinions, and com-
mits to memory the saying of Ambrose.
5. As, then, I knew not how this image of Thine should
subsist, I should have knocked and propounded the doubt
how it was to be believed, and not have insultingly opposed
it, as if it were believed. Anxiety, therefore, as to what to
retain as certain, did all the more sharply gnaw into my soul,
the more shame I felt that, having been so long deluded and
deceived by the promise of certainties, I had, with puerile
error and petulance, prated of so many uncertainties as if
they were certainties. For that they were falsehoods became
apparent to me afterwards. However, I was certain that
they were uncertain, and that I had formerly held them as
certain when with a blind contentiousness I accused Thy
Catholic Church, which though I had not yet discovered to
teach truly, yet not to teach that of which I had so vehe-
112, CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VI.
mently accused her. In this manner was I confounded and
converted, and I rejoiced, O my God, that the one Church,
the body o Thine only Son (wherein the name of Christ
had been set upon me when an infant), did not appreciate
these infantile trifles, nor maintained, in her sound doctrine,
any tenet that would confine Thee, the Creator of all, in
space though ever so great and wide, yet bounded on all
sides by the restraints of a human form.
6, I rejoiced also that the old Scriptures of the law and
the prophets were laid before me, to be perused, not now
with that eye to which they seemed most absurd before, when
I censured Thy holy ones for so thinking, whereas in truth
they thought not so; and with delight I heard Ambrose, in
his sermons to the people, oftentimes most diligently recom-
mend this text as a rule, "The letter killeth, but the Spirit
giveth life;" (13) whilst, drawing aside the mystic veil, he
spiritually laid open that which, accepted according to the
"letter," seemed to teach perverse doctrines teaching herein
nothing that offended me, though he taught such things as I
knew not as yet whether they were true. For all this time I
restrained my heart from assenting to anything, fearing to
fall headlong 3 but by hanging in suspense I was the worse
killed. For my desire was to be as well assured of those
things that I saw not, as I was that seven and three are ten.
For I was not so insane as to believe that this could not be
comprehended 5 but I desired to have other things as clear
as this, whether corporeal things, which were not present to
my senses, or spiritual, whereof I knew not how to conceive
except corporeally. And by believing I might have been
cured, that so the sight of my soul being cleared, it might
in some way be directed towards Thy truth, which abideth
always, and faileth in naught. But as it happens that he
CHAP. V.] REASON AND FAITH
who has tried a bad physician fears to trust himself with a
good one, so was it with the health of my soul, which could
not be healed but by believing, and, lest it should believe
falsehoods, refused to be cured resisting Thy hands, who
hast prepared for us the medicaments of faith, and hast
applied them to the maladies of the whole world, and hast
bestowed upon them so great authority.
CHAP. v. Faith is the basis of human life; man cannot discover
that truth which, Holy Scripture has disclosed.
7. From this, however, being led to prefer the Catholic
doctrine, I felt that it was with more moderation and honesty
that it commanded things to be believed that were not
demonstrated (whether it was that they could be demon-
strated, but not to any one, or could not be demonstrated at
all), than was the method of the Manichseans, where our
credulity was mocked by audacious promise of knowledge,
and then so many most fabulous and absurd things were
forced upon belief because they were not capable of demon-
stration. After that, O Lord, Thou, by little and little, with
most gentle and most merciful hand, drawing and calming
my heart, didst persuade me, taking into consideration
what a multiplicity of things which I had never seen, nor
was present when they were enacted, like so many of the
things in secular history, and so many accounts of places and
cities which I had not seen; so many of friends, so many of
physicians, so many now of these men, now of those, which
unless we should believe, we should do nothing at all in this
life 5 lastly, with how unalterable an assurance I believed of
what parents I was born, which it would have been impossible
for me to know otherwise than by hearsay, taking into con-
sideration all this, Thou persuadedst me that not they who
JI4 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VI.
believed Thy books (which, with so great authority, Thou
hast established among nearly all nations), but those who
believed them not were to be blamed j and that those men
were not to be listened unto who should say to me, "How
dost thou know that those Scriptures were imparted unto
mankind by the Spirit of the one true and most true God? 33
For it was this same thing that was most of all to be believed,
since no wranglings of blasphemous questions, whereof I had
read so many amongst the self-contradicting philosophers,
could once wring the belief from me that Thou art, what-
soever Thou wert, though what I knew not, or that the
government of human affairs belongs to Thee.
8. Thus much I believed, at one time more strongly than
another, yet did I ever believe both that Thou wert, and
hadst a care of us, although I was ignorant both what was to
be thought of Thy substance, and what way led, or led back
to Thee. Seeing, then, that we were too weak by unaided
reason to find out the truth, and for this cause needed the
authority of the holy writings, I had now begun to believe
that Thou wouldest by no means have given such excellency
of authority to those Scriptures throughout all lands, had it
not been Thy will thereby to be believed in, and thereby
sought. For now those things which heretofore appeared
incongruous to me in the Scripture, and used to offend me,
having heard divers of them expounded reasonably I re-
ferred to the depth of the mysteries, and its authority seemed
to me all the more venerable and worthy of religious belief,
in that, while it was visible for all to read it, it reserved the
majesty of its secret within its profound significance, stooping
to all in the great plainness of its language and lowliness of
its style, yet exercising the application of such as are not light
of heart 5 that it might receive all into its common bosom, and
CHAP. VI.] PLAINNESS AND PROFUNDITY OF SCRIPTURE 11$
through narrow passages waft over some few towards Thee,
yet many more than if it did not stand upon such a height
of authority, nor allured multitudes within its bosom by its
holy humility. These things I meditated upon, and Thou
wert with me 5 I sighed, and Thou heardest me; I vacillated,
and Thou didst guide me 5 I roamed through the broad way
of the world, and Thou didst not desert me.
CHAP. vi. On the source and cause of true joy, the example of
the joyous beggar being adduced.
9. I longed for honours, gains, wedlock 5 and Thou
mockedst me. In these desires I underwent most bitter hard-
ships, Thou being the more gracious the less Thou didst
suffer anything which was not Thou to grow sweet to me.
Behold my heart, O Lord, who wouldest that I should recall
all this, and confess unto Thee. Now let my soul cleave to
Thee, which Thou hast freed from that fast-holding bird-
lime of death. How wretched was it! And Thou didst
irritate the feeling of its wound, that, forsaking all else, it
might be converted unto Thee, who art above all, and
without whom all things would be naught, be converted
and be healed. How wretched was I at that time, and how
didst Thou deal with me, to make me sensible of my
wretchedness on that day wherein I was preparing to recite
a panegyric on the Emperor, (14) wherein I was to deliver
many a lie, and lying was to be applauded by those who
knew I lied 5 and my heart panted with these cares, and
boiled over with the feverishness of consuming thoughts.
For, while walking along one of the streets of Milan, I
observed a poor mendicant, then, I imagine, with a full
belly, joking and joyous; and I sighed, and spake to the
friends around me of the many sorrows resulting from our
n6 "CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK vi.
madness, for that by all such exertions of ours, as those
wherein I then laboured, dragging along, under the spur of
desires, the burden of my own unhappiness, and by dragging
increasing it, we yet aimed only to attain that very joyous-
ness which that mendicant had reached before us, who, per-
chance, never would attain it! For what he had obtained
through a few begged pence, the same was I scheming for by
many a wretched and tortuous turning, the joy of a tern-
porary felicity. For he verily possessed not true joy, but yet
I, with these my ambitions, was seeking one much more
untrue. And in truth he was joyous, I anxious ; he free
from care, I full of alarms. But should any one inquire of
me whether I would rather be merry or fearful, I would
reply, Merry. Again, were I asked whether I would rather
be such as he was, or as I myself then was, I should elect
to be myself, though beset with cares and alarms, but out
of perversity 5 for was it so in truth? For I ought not to
prefer myself to him because I happened to be more learned
than he, seeing that I took no delight therein, but sought
rather to please men by it 5 and that not to instruct, but only
to please. Wherefore also didst Thou break my bones with
the rod of Thy correction.
10. Away with those, then, from my soul, who say unto
it, "It makes a difference from whence a man's joy is derived.
That mendicant rejoiced in drunkenness} thou longedst to
rejoice in glory." What glory, O Lord? That which is
not in Thee. For even as his was no true joy, so was mine
no true glory j and it subverted my soul more. He would
digest his drunkenness that same night, but many a night
had I slept with mine, and risen again with it, and was to
sleep again and again to rise with it, I know not how oft.
It does indeed "make a difference whence a man's joy is
CHAP. VII.] ALYPIUS AND THE CIRCUS IIJ
derived." I know it is so, and that the joy of a faithful
hope is incomparably beyond such vanity. Yea, and at
that time was he beyond me, for he truly was the happier
man 5 not only for that he was thoroughly steeped in mirth,
I torn to pieces with cares, but he, by giving good wishes,
had gotten wine, I, by lying, was following after pride.
Much to this effect said I then to my dear friends, and I
often marked in them how it fared with me; and I found
that it went ill with me, and fretted, and doubled that very
ill. And if any prosperity smiled upon me, I loathed to
seize it, for almost before I could grasp it it flew away.
CHAP. vil. He leads to reformation his friend AlypluS) seized with
madness for the Clrcenslan games.
ii. These things we, who lived like friends together,
jointly deplored, but chiefly and most familiarly did I discuss
them with Alypius and Nebridius, of whom Alypius was
born in the same town as myself, his parents being of the
highest rank there, but he being younger than I. For he
had studied under me, first, when I taught in our own town,
and afterwards at Carthage, and esteemed me highly, because
I appeared to him good and learned 5 and I esteemed him
for his innate love of virtue, which, in one of no great age,
was sufficiently eminent. But the vortex of Carthaginian
customs (amongst whom these frivolous spectacles are hotly
followed) had inveigled him into the madness of the Cir-
censian games. But while he was miserably tossed about
therein, I was professing rhetoric there, and had a public
school. As yet he did not give ear to my teaching, on
account of some ill-feeling that had arisen between me and
his father. I had then found how fatally he doted upon
the circus, and was deeply grieved that he seemed likely
1 1 8 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VI.
if, indeed, he had not already done so to cast away his so
great promise. Yet had I no means of advising, or by a sort
of restraint reclaiming him, either by the kindness of a friend
or by the authority of a master. For I imagined that his
sentiments towards me were the same as his father's 5 but
he was not such. Disregarding, therefore, his father's will
in that matter, he commenced to salute me, and, coming into
my lecture-room, to listen for a little and depart.
12. But it slipped my memory to deal with him, so that
he should not, through a blind and headstrong desire of
empty pastimes, undo so great a wit. But Thou, O Lord,
who governest the helm of all Thou hast created, hadst not
forgotten him, who was one day to be amongst Thy sons, the
President of Thy sacrament; and that his amendment might
plainly be attributed to Thyself, Thou broughtest it about
through me, but I knowing nothing of it. For one day,
when I was sitting in my accustomed place, with my scholars
before me, he came in, saluted me, sat himself down, and
fixed his attention on the subject I was then handling. It
so happened that I had a passage in hand, which while I was
explaining, a simile borrowed from the Circensian games
occurred to me, as likely to make what I wished to convey
pleasanter and plainer, imbued with a biting jibe at those
whom that madness had enthralled. Thou knowest, O our
God, that I had no thought at that time of curing Alypius of
that plague. But he took it to himself, and thought that I
would not have said it but for his sake. And what any other
man would have made a ground of offence against me, this
worthy young man took as a reason for being offended at
himself, and for loving me more fervently. For Thou hast
said it long ago, and written in Thy book, "Rebuke a wise
man, and he will love thee." But I had not rebuked him,
CHAP. VIII.] THE MORALITY OF THE MANICHJEANS 1 19
but Thou, who makest use of all consciously or unconsciously
in that order which Thyself knowest (and that order is
right), wroughtest out of my heart and tongue burning coals,
by which Thou mightest set on fire and cure the hopeful
mind thus languishing. Let him be silent in Thy praises
who meditates not on Thy mercies, which from my inmost
parts confess unto Thee. For he upon that speech rushed
out from that so deep pit, wherein he was wilfully plunged,
and was blinded by its miserable pastimes - 7 and he roused
his mind with a resolute moderation; whereupon all the filth
of the Circensian pastimes (15) flew off from him, and he
did not approach them further. Upon this, he prevailed
with his reluctant father to let him be my pupil. He gave
in and consented. And Alypius, beginning again to hear
me, was involved in the same superstition as I was, loving in
the Manichseans that ostentation of continency (16) which
he believed to be true and unfeigned. It was, however, a
senseless and seducing continency, ensnaring precious souls,
not able as yet to reach the height of virtue, and easily
beguiled with the veneer of what was but a shadowy and
feigned virtue.
CHAP. vin. The same when at Rome, being led by others Into the
amphitheatre ', is delighted with the gladiatorial games.
13. He, not relinquishing that worldly way which his
parents had bewitched him to pursue, had gone before me to
Rome, to study law, and there he was carried away in an
extraordinary manner with an incredible eagerness after the
gladiatorial shows. For, being utterly opposed to and de-
testing such spectacles, he was one day met by chance by
divers of his acquaintance and fellow-students returning
from dinner, and they with a friendly violence drew him,
I2Q CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VI.
vehemently objecting and resisting, into the amphitheatre^
on a day of these cruel and deadly shows, he thus protesting:
"Though you drag my body to that place, and there place
me, can you force me to give my mind and lend my eyes to
these shows? Thus shall I be absent while present, and so
shall overcome both you and them. 35 They hearing this,
dragged him on nevertheless, desirous, perchance, to see
whether he could do as he said. When they had arrived
thither, and had taken their places as they could, the whole
place became excited with the inhuman sports. But he,
shutting up the doors of his eyes, forbade his mind to roam
abroad after such naughtiness 5 and would that he had shut
his ears also! For, upon the fall of one in the fight, a
mighty cry from the whole audience stirring him strongly,
he, overcome by curiosity, and prepared as it were to despise
and rise superior to it, no matter what it were, opened his
eyes, and was struck with a deeper wound in his soul than
the other, whom he desired to see, was in his body 5 (17) and
he fell more miserably than he on whose fall that mighty
clamour was raised, which entered through his ears, and
unlocked his eyes, to make way for the striking and beating
down of his soul, which was bold rather than valiant
hitherto; and so much the weaker in that it presumed on
itself, which ought to have depended on Thee. For, directly
he saw that blood, he therewith imbibed a sort of savageness;
nor did he turn away, but fixed his eye, drinking in madness
unconsciously, and was delighted with the guilty contest, and
drunken with the bloody pastime. Nor was he now the
same he came in, but was one of the throng he came unto,
and a true companion of those who had brought him thither.
Why need I say more? He looked, shouted, was excited>
carried away with him the madness which would stimulate
CHAP. IX.] ALYPIUS IS TAKEN UP FOR THEFT 121
him to return, not only with those who first enticed him, but
also before them, yea, and to draw in others. And from all
this didst Thou, with a most powerful and most merciful
hand, pluck him, and taughtest him not to repose confidence
in himself, but in Thee but not till long after.
CHAP. ix. Innocent Alypius, being apprehended as a thief y is set
at liberty by the cleverness of an architect,
14. But this was all being stored up in his memory for a
medicine hereafter. As was that also, that when he was yet
studying under me at Carthage, and was meditating at noon-
day in the market-place upon what he had to recite (as
scholars are wont to be exercised), Thou sufferedst him to be
apprehended as a thief by the officers of the market-place.
For no other reason, I apprehend, didst Thou, O our God,
suffer it, but that he who was in the future to prove so great
a man should now begin to learn that, in judging of causes,
man should not with a reckless credulity readily be con-
demned by man. For as he was walking up and down alone
before the judgment-seat with his tablets and pen, lo, a
young man, one of the scholars, the real thief, privily bring-
ing a hatchet, got in without Alypius 3 seeing him as far as the
leaden bars which protect the silversmiths' shops, and began
to cut away the lead. But the noise of the hatchet being
heard, the silversmiths below began to make a stir, and sent
to take in custody whomsoever they should find. But the
thief, hearing their voices, ran away, leaving his hatchet,
fearing to be taken with it. Now Alypius, who had not seen
him come in, caught sight of him as he went out, and noted
with what speed he made off. And, being curious to know
the reasons, he entered the place, where, finding the hatchet,
122 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VI,
he stood wondering and pondering, when behold, those that
were sent caught him alone, hatchet in hand, the noise
whereof had startled them and brought them thither. They
lay hold of him and drag him away, and, gathering the
tenants of the market-place about them, boast of having
taken a notorious thief, and thereupon he was being led
away to appear before the judge.
15. But thus far was he to be instructed. For immedi-
ately, O Lord, Thou earnest to the succour of his innocency,
whereof Thou wert the sole witness. For, as he was being
led either to prison or to punishment, they were met by a
certain architect, who had the chief charge of the public
buildings. They were specially glad to come across him, by
whom they used to be suspected of stealing the goods lost out
of the market-place, as though at last to convince him by
whom these thefts were committed. He, however, had at
divers times seen Alypius at the house of a certain senator,
whom he was wont to visit to pay his respects 5 and, recog-
nizing him at once, he took him aside by the hand, and
inquiring of him the cause of so great a misfortune, heard
the whole affair, and commanded all the rabble then present
(who were very uproarious and full of threatenings) to go
with him. And they came to the house of the young man
who had committed the deed. There, before the door, was
a lad so young as not to refrain from disclosing the whole
through the fear of injuring his master. For he had fol-
lowed his master to the market-place. Whom, so soon as
Alypius recognized, he intimated it to the architect} and he,
showing the hatchet to the lad, asked him to whom it be-
longed. "To us," quoth he immediately; and on being
further interrogated, he disclosed everything. Thus, the
CHAP. X.] INTEGRITY OF ALYPIUS
crime being transferred to that house, and the rabble shamed,
which had begun to triumph over Alypius, he, the future
dispenser of Thy word, and an examiner of numerous causes
in Thy Church, went away better experienced and instructed.
CHAP. x. The wonderful integrity of Alyfnus in judgment. The
lasting friendship of Nebridius with Augustine.
1 6. Him, therefore, had I lighted upon at Rome, and he
clung to me by a most strong tie, and accompanied me to
Milan, both that he might not leave me, and that he might
practise something of the law he had studied, more with a
view of pleasing his parents than himself. There had he
thrice sat as assessor with an uncorruptness wondered at by
others, he rather wondering at those who could prefer gold
to integrity. His character was tested, also, not only by the
bait of covetousness, but by the spur of fear. At Rome, he
was assessor to the Count of the Italian Treasury. There
was at that time a most potent senator, to whose favours
many were indebted, of whom also many stood in fear. He
would fain, by his usual power, have a thing granted him
which was forbidden by the laws. This Alypius resisted 5 a
bribe was promised, he scorned it with all his heart 5 threats
were employed, he trampled them under foot, all men
being astonished at so rare a spirit, which neither coveted the
friendship nor feared the enmity of a man at once so power-
ful and so greatly famed for his innumerable means of doing
good or ill. Even the judge whose councillor Alypius was,
although also unwilling that it should be done, yet did not
openly refuse it, but put the matter off upon Alypius, alleg-
ing that it was he who would not permit him to do itj for
verily, had the judge done it, Alypius would have decided
otherwise. With this one thing in the way of learning was
124 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VI.
he very nearly led away, that he might have books copied
for him at praetorian prices. But, consulting justice, he
changed his mind for the better, esteeming equity, whereby
he was hindered, more gainful than the power whereby he
was permitted. These are little things, but "He that is
faithful in that which is least, is faithful also in much."
Nor can that possibly be void which proceedeth out of the
mouth of Thy Truth. "If, therefore, ye have not been
faithful in the unrighteous mammon, who will commit to
your trust the true riches? And if ye have not been faithful
in that which is another man's, who shall give you that which
is your own?" He, being such, did at that time cling to me,
and wavered in purpose, as I did, what course of life was to
be taken.
17. Nebridius also, who had left his native country near
Carthage, and Carthage itself, where he had usually lived,
leaving behind his fine paternal estate, his house, and his
mother, who intended not to follow him, had come to Milan,
for no other reason than that he might live with me in a
most ardent search after truth and wisdom. Like me he
sighed, like me he wavered, an ardent seeker after true life,
and a most acute examiner of the most abstruse questions.
So were there three begging mouths, sighing out their wants
one to the other, and waiting upon Thee, that Thou mightest
give them their meat in due season. And in all the bitter-
ness which by Thy mercy followed our worldly pursuits, as
we contemplated the end, why this suffering should be ours,
darkness came upon us; and we turned away groaning and
exclaiming, "How long shall these things be?" And this we
often said; and saying so, we did not relinquish them, for
as yet we had discovered nothing certain to which, when
relinquished, we might betake ourselves.
CHAP. XI.] AUGUSTINE IS TROUBLED IN MIND 125
CHAP. XI. Being troubled by his grievous errors > he meditates
entering on a new life.
1 8. And I, puzzling over and reviewing these things,
most marvelled at the length of time from that my nine-
teenth year, wherein I began to be inflamed with the desire
of wisdom, resolving, when I had found her, to forsake all
the empty hopes and lying insanities of vain desires. And
behold, I was now getting on to my thirtieth year, sticking
in the same mire, eager for the enjoyment of things present,
which fly away and destroy me, whilst I say, "To-morrow
I shall discover it ; behold, it will appear plainly, and I shall
seize it 5 behold, Faustus will come and explain everything!
O ye great men, ye Academicians, it is then true that nothing
certain for the ordering of life can be attained! Nay, let
us search the more diligently, and let us not despair. Lo, the
things in the ecclesiastical books, which appeared to us absurd
aforetime, do not appear so now, and may be otherwise and
honestly interpreted. I will set my feet upon that step,
where, as a child, my parents placed me, until the clear truth
be discovered. But where and when shall it be sought?
Ambrose has no leisure we have no leisure to read. Where
are we to find the books? Whence or when procure them?
From whom borrow them? Let set times be appointed, and
certain hours be set apart for the health of the soul. Great
hope has risen upon us the Catholic faith doth not teach
what we conceived, and vainly accused it of. Her learned
ones hold it as an abomination to believe that God is limited
by the form of a human body. And do we doubt to 'knock, 3
in order that the rest may be c opened j ? The mornings are
taken up by our scholars ; how do we employ the rest of the
day? Why do we not set about this? But when, then.
126 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VI.
pay our respects to our great friends, of whose favours we
stand in need? When prepare what our scholars buy from
us? When recreate ourselves, relaxing our minds from the
pressure of care?' 5
19. "Perish everything, and let us dismiss these empty
vanities, and betake ourselves solely to the search after truth!
Life is miserable, death uncertain. If it creeps upon us
suddenly, in what state shall we depart hence, and where
shall we learn what we have neglected here? Or rather
shall we not suffer the punishment of this negligence? What
if death itself should cut off and put an end to all care and
feeling? This also, then, must be inquired into. JBut God
forbid that it should be so. It is not without reason, it is
no empty thing, that the so eminent height of the authority
of the Christian faith is diffused throughout the entire world.
Never would such and so great things be wrought for us, if,
by the death of the body, the life of the soul were destroyed.
Why, therefore, do we delay to abandon our hopes of this
world, and give ourselves wholly to seek after God and the
blessed life? But stay! Even those things are enjoyable;
and they possess some and no little sweetness. We must
not abandon them lightly, for it would be a shame to return
to them again. Behold, now is it a great matter to obtain
some post of honour! And what more could we desire?
We have crowds of influential friends, though we have
nothing else, and if we make haste a presidentship may be
offered us 5 and a wife with some money, that she increase not
our expenses 5 and this shall be the height of desire. Many
men, who are great and worthy of imitation, have applied
themselves to the study of wisdom in the marriage state. 33 *
20. Whilst I talked of these things, and these winds
veered about and tossed my heart hither and thither, the time
CHAP. XII.] CONCERNING CELIBACY 12 J
passed onj but I was slow to turn to the Lord, and from day
to day deferred to live in Thee, and deferred not daily to
die in myself. Being enamoured of a happy life, I yet
feared it in its own abode, and, fleeing from it, sought after
it. I conceived that I should be too unhappy were I de-
prived of the embracements of a woman ; (18) and of Thy
merciful medicine to cure that infirmity I thought not, not
having tried it. As regards continency, I imagined it to be
under the control of our own strength (though in myself I
found it not), being so foolish as not to know what is written,
that none can be continent unless Thou give it, and that Thou
wouldst give it, if with heartfelt groaning I should knock at
Thine ears, and should with firm faith cast my care upon
Thee.
CHAP. xn. Discussion with Alyplus concerning a Life of celibacy.
21. It was in truth Alypius who prevented me from
marrying, alleging that thus we could by no means live
together, having so much undistracted leisure in the love of
wisdom, as we had long desired. For he himself was so
chaste in this matter that it was wonderful all the more,
too, that in his early youth he had entered upon that path,
but had not clung to it 5 rather had he, feeling sorrow and
disgust at it, lived from that time to the present most con-
tinently. But I opposed him with the examples of those
who as married men had loved wisdom, found favour with
God, and walked faithfully and lovingly with their friends.
From the greatness of whose spirit I fell far short, and,
enthralled with the disease of the flesh and its deadly sweet-
ness, dragged my chain along, fearing to be loosed, and, as if
it pressed my wound, rejected his kind expostulations, as it
were the hand of one who would unchain me. Moreover, it
128 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VI.
was by me that the serpent spake unto Alypius himself,
weaving and laying in his path, by my tongue, pleasant
snares, wherein his honourable and free feet might be
entangled.
22. For when he wondered that I, for whom he had no
slight esteem, stuck so fast in the bird-lime of that pleasure
as to affirm whenever we discussed the matter that it would
be impossible for me to lead a single life, and urged in my
defence when I saw him wonder that there was a vast
difference between the life that he had tried by stealth and
snatches (of which he had now but a faint recollection, and
might therefore, without regret, easily despise), and my sus-
tained acquaintance with it, whereto if but the honourable
name of marriage were added, he would not then be
astonished at my inability to contemn that course, then
began he also to wish to be married, not as if overpowered
by the lust of such pleasure, but from curiosity. For, as he
said, he was anxious to know what that could be without
which my life, which was so pleasing to him, seemed to me
not life but a penalty. For his mind, free from that chain,
was astounded at my slavery, and through that astonishment
was going on to a desire of trying it, and from it to the
trial itself, and thence, perchance, to fall into that bondage
whereat he was so astonished, seeing he was ready to enter
into "a covenant with death 5" and he that loves danger shall
fall into it. For whatever the conjugal honour be in the
office of well-ordering a married life, and sustaining chil-
dren, influenced us but slightly. But that which did for the
most part afflict me, already made a slave to it, was the habit
of satisfying an insatiable lust; him about to be enslaved did
an admiring wonder draw on. In this state were we, until
Thou, O most High, not forsaking our lowliness, com-
CHAP, XIII.] HE IS URGED TO MARRY 129
miserating our misery, didst come to our rescue by wonderful
and secret ways.
CHAP, xm, Being urged by his mother to take a wlf^ he sought
a maiden that was pleasing unto him.
23. Active efforts were made to get me a wife. I wooed,
1 was engaged, my mother taking the greatest pains in the
matter, that when I was once married, the health-giving
baptism might cleanse mej for which she rejoiced that I was
being daily fitted, remarking that her desires and Thy prom-
ises were being fulfilled in my faith. At which time, verily,
both at my request and her own desire, with strong heartfelt
cries did we daily beg of Thee that Thou wouldest by a
vision disclose unto her something concerning my future
marriage 3 but Thou wouldest not. She saw indeed certain
vain and fantastic things, such as the earnestness of a human
spirit, bent thereon, conjured up 5 and these she told me of,
not with her usual confidence when Thou hadst shown her
anything, but slighting them. For she could, she declared,
through some feeling which she could not express in words,
discern the difference betwixt Thy revelations and the
dreams of her own spirit. Yet the affair was pressed on, and
a maiden sued who wanted two years of the marriageable
age j and, as she was pleasing, she was waited for.
CHAP. XIV. The design of establishing a common household with
his friends 1$ speedily hindered.
24. And many of us friends, consulting on and abhorring
the turbulent vexations of human life, had considered and
now almost determined upon living at ease and separate from
the turmoil of men. And this was to be obtained in this
we were to bring whatever we could severally procure,
I 3 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VI.
and make a common household, so that, through the sincerity
of our friendship, nothing should belong more to one than
the other 5 but the whole, being derived from all, should as a
whole belong to each, and the whole unto all. It seemed to
us that this society might consist of ten persons, some of
whom were very rich, especially Romanianus, our towns-
man, an intimate friend of mine from his childhood, whom
grave business matters had then brought up to Court 5 who
was the most earnest of us all for this project, and whose
voice was of great weight in commending it, because his
estate was far more ample than that of the rest. We had
arranged, too, that two officers should be chosen yearly, for
the providing of all necessary things, whilst the rest were
left undisturbed. But when we began to reflect whether the
wives which some of us had already, and others hoped to
have, would permit this, all that plan, which was being so
well framed, broke to pieces in our hands, and was utterly
wrecked and cast aside. Thence we fell again to sighs and
groans, and our steps to follow the broad and beaten ways
of the world j for many thoughts were in our heart, but Thy
counsel standeth for ever. Out of which counsel Thou didst
mock ours, and preparedst Thine own, purposing to give us
meat in due season, and to open Thy hand, and to fill our
souls with blessing.
CHAP, xv, He dismisses one mistress, and chooses another.
25. Meanwhile my sins were being multiplied, and my
mistress being torn from my side as an impediment to my
marriage, my heart, which clave to her, was racked, and
wounded, and bleeding. And she went back to Africa,
making a vow unto Thee never to know another man, leaving
with me mv natural son by her. But I, unhappy one, who
CHAP. XVI.] EPICUREANISM
could not imitate a woman, impatient of delay, since it was
not until two years' time I was to obtain her I sought,
being not so much a lover of marriage as a slave to lust,
procured another (not a wife, though), that so by the bond-
age of a lasting habit the disease of my soul might be nursed
up, and kept up in its vigour, or even increased, into the
kingdom of marriage. Nor was that wound of mine as yet
cured which had been caused by the separation from my
former mistress, but after inflammation and most acute
anguish it mortified, and the pain became numbed, but more
desperate.
CHAP. xvi. The fear of death and, judgment called him, believing
in the immortality of the soul y back from his wickedness, him
who aforetime believed in the opinions of Epcurus.
16. Unto Thee be praise, unto Thee be glory, O Fountain
of mercies! I became more wretched, and Thou nearer.
Thy right hand was ever ready to pluck me out of the mire,
and to cleanse me, but I was ignorant of it. Nor did any-
thing recall me from a yet deeper abyss of carnal pleasures,
but the fear of death and of Thy future judgment, which,
amid all my fluctuations of opinion, never left my breast.
And in disputing with my friends, Alypius and Nebridius,
concerning the nature of good and evil, I held that Epicurus
had, in my judgment, won the palm, had I not believed that
after death there remained a life for the soul, and places
of recompense, which Epicurus would not believe. And I
demanded, "Supposing us to be immortal, and to be living in
the enjoyment of perpetual bodily pleasure, and that without
any fear of losing it, why, then, should we not be happy, or
why should we search for anything else?" not knowing
that even this very thing was a part of my great misery, that,
132 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VI.
being thus sunk and blinded, I could not discern that light
of honour and beauty to be embraced for its own sake, which
cannot be seen by the eye of the flesh, it being visible only to
the inner man. Nor did I, unhappy one, consider out of
what vein it emanated, that even these things, loathsome as
they were, I with pleasure discussed with my friends. Nor
could I, even in accordance with my then notions of happi-
ness, make myself happy without friends, amid no matter
how great abundance of carnal pleasures. And these
friends assuredly I loved for their own sakes, and I knew
myself to be loved of them again for my own sake. O
crooked ways! Woe to the audacious soul which hoped
that, if it forsook Thee, it would find some better thing!
It hath turned and re-turned, on back, sides, and belly, and
all was hard, and Thou alone rest. And behold, Thou art
near, and deliverest us from our wretched wanderings, and
stablishest us in Thy way, and dost comfort us, and say,
"Run; I will carry you, yea, I will lead you, and there also
will I carry you."
BOOK SEVENTH
HE RECALLS THE BEGINNING OF HIS YOUTH, i.e. THE THIRTY-FIRST YEAR
OF HIS AGE, IN WHICH VERY GRAVE ERRORS AS TO THE NATURE OF
GOD, AND THE ORIGIN OF EVIL, BEING DISTINGUISHED, AND THE SA-
CRED BOOKS MORE ACCURATELY KNOWN, HE AT LENGTH ARRIVES AT
A CLEAR KNOWLEDGE OF GOD, NOT YET RIGHTLY APPREHENDING
JESUS CHRIST.
CHAP. I. He regarded, not God> indeed^ under the form of a
human body, but as a corporeal substance diffused through s^ace.
I. TT\EAD now was that evil and abominable youth of
JL/ mine, and I was passing into early manhood: as I
increased in years, the fouler became I in vanity, who could
not conceive of any substance but such as I saw with my own
eyes. I thought not of Thee, O God, under the form of a
Auman body. Since the time I began to hear something of
wisdom, I always avoided this 5 and I rejoiced to have found
the same in the faith of our spiritual mother, Thy Catholic
Church. But what else to imagine Thee I knew not. And
I, a man, and such a man, sought to conceive of Thee, the
sovereign and only true God 5 and I did in my inmost heart
believe that Thou wert incorruptible, and inviolable, and
unchangeable 5 because, not knowing whence or how, yet
most plainly did I see and feel sure that that which may be
corrupted must be worse than that which cannot, and what
cannot be violated did I without hesitation prefer before that
which can, and deemed that which suffers no change to be
better than that which is changeable. Violently did my
heart cry out against all my phantasms, and with this one
blow I endeavoured to beat away from the eye of my mind
133
134 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VII.
all that unclean crowd which fluttered around it. And lo,
being scarce put off, they, in the twinkling of an eye, pressed
in multitudes around me, dashed against my face, and be-
clouded it 5 so that, though I thought not of Thee under the
form of a human body, yet was I constrained to image Thee
to be something corporeal in space, either infused into the
world, or infinitely diffused beyond it, even that incor-
ruptible, inviolable, and unchangeable, which I preferred to
the corruptible, and violable, and changeable ; since what-
soever I conceived, deprived of this space, appeared as
nothing to me, yea, altogether nothing, not even a void, as
if a body were removed from its place and the place should
remain empty of any body at all, whether earthly, terrestrial^
watery, aerial, or celestial, but should remain a void place
a spacious nothing, as it were.
2. I therefore being thus gross-hearted, nor clear even to
myself, whatsoever was not stretched over certain spaces, nor
diffused, nor crowded together, nor swelled out, or which
did not or could not receive some of these dimensions, I
judged to be altogether nothing. For over such forms as
my eyes are wont to range did my heart then range; nor did
I see that this same observation, by which I formed those
same images, was not of this kind, and yet it could not have
formed them had not itself been something great. In like
manner did I conceive of Thee, Life of my life, as vast
through infinite spaces, on every side penetrating the whole
mass of the world, and beyond it, all ways, through immeas-
urable and boundless spaces ; so that the earth should have
Thee, the heaven have Thee, all things have Thee, and they
bounded in Thee, but Thou nowhere. For as the body of
this air which is above the earth preventeth not the light of
the sun from passing through it, penetrating it, not by burst-
CHAP. II.] HIS PERPLEXITIES AS TO GOD ? S SUBSTANCE 135
ing or by cutting, but by filling it entirely, so I imagined the
body, not of heaven, air, and sea only, but of the earth also,
to be pervious to Thee, and in all its greatest parts as well
as smallest penetrable to receive Thy presence, by a secret
inspiration, both inwardly and outwardly governing all
things which Thou hast created. So I conjectured, because
I was unable to think of anything else; for it was untrue.
For in this way would a greater part of the earth contain a
greater portion of Thee, and the less a lesser 5 and all things
should so be full of Thee, as that the body of an elephant
should contain more of Thee than that of a sparrow by how
much larger it is, and occupies more room 5 and so shouldest;
Thou make the portions of Thyself present unto the several
portions of the world, in pieces, great to the great, little to
the little. But Thou art not such a one 3 nor hadst Thou as
yet enlightened my darkness.
CHAP. ir. The disputation of Nebridius against the Manlchceans
on the question ) "Whether God be corruptible or incorruptible?*
3. It was sufficient for me, O Lord, to oppose to those
deceived deceivers and dumb praters (dumb, since Thy word
sounded not forth from them) that which a long while ago,
while we were at Carthage, Nebridius used to propound, at
which all we who heard it were disturbed: "What could
that reputed nation of darkness, which the Manichseans are
in the habit of setting up as a mass opposed to Thee, have
done unto Thee hadst Thou objected to fight with it? For
had it been answered, <It would have done Thee some
injury,' then shouldest Thou be subject to violence and cor-
ruption j but if the reply were: It could do Thee no injury/
then was no cause assigned for Thy fighting with itj and so
fighting as that a certain portion and member of Thee, or
136 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VII,
offspring of Thy very substance, should be blended with
adverse powers and natures not of Thy creation, and be by
them corrupted and deteriorated to such an extent as to be
turned from happiness into misery, and need help whereby
it might be delivered and purged } and that this offspring of
Thy substance was the soul, to which, being enslaved, con-
taminated, and corrupted, Thy word, free, pure, and entire,
might bring succour ; but yet also the word itself being cor-
ruptible, because it was from one and the same substance.
So that should they affirm Thee, whatsoever Thou art, that
is, Thy substance whereby Thou art, to be incorruptible, then
were all these assertions false and execrable; but if cor-
ruptible, then that were false, and at the first utterance
to be abhorred." (19) This argument, then, was enough
against those who wholly merited to be vomited forth from
the surfeited stomach, since they had no means of escape
without horrible sacrilege, both of heart and tongue, thinking
and speaking such things of Thee.
CHAP, in. That the cause of evil Is the free judgment of the will.
4. But I also, as yet, although I said and was firmly
persuaded, that Thou our Lord, the true God, who mad-
est not only our souls but our bodies, and not our souls
and bodies alone, but all creatures and all things, wert
uncontaminable and inconvertible, and in no part mutable $
yet understood I not readily and clearly what was the
cause of evil. And yet, whatever it was, I perceived that
it must be so sought out as not to constrain me by it to
believe that the immutable God was mutable, lest I my-
self should become the thing that I was seeking out. I
sought, therefore, for it free from care, certain of the
untruthfulness of what these asserted, whom I shunned
CHAP. III.] ON THE CAUSE OF EVIL 137
with my whole heart; for I perceived that through seek-
ing after the origin of evil, they were filled with malice,
in that they liked better to think that Thy Substance did
suffer evil than that their own did commit it.
5. And I directed my attention to discern what I now
heard, that free will was the cause of our doing evil, and
Thy righteous judgment of our suffering it. But I was
unable clearly to discern it. So, then, trying to draw the
eye of my mind from that pit, I was plunged again
therein, and trying often, was as often plunged back again.
But this raised me towards Thy light, that I knew as
well that I had a will as that I had life: when, therefore,
I was willing or unwilling to do anything, I was most
certain that it was none but myself that was willing and
unwilling; and immediately I perceived that there was the
cause of my sin. But what I did against my will I saw
that I suffered rather than did, and that judged I not to
be my fault, but my punishment; whereby, believing Thee
to be most just, I quickly confessed myself to be not
unjustly punished. But again I said: "Who made me?
Was it not my God, who is not only good, but goodness
itself? Whence came I then to will to do evil, and to
be unwilling to, do good, that there might be cause for my
just punishment? Who was it that put this in me, and
implanted in me the root of bitterness, seeing I was alto-
gether made by my most sweet God? If the devil were
the author, whence is that devil? And if he also, by his
own perverse will, of a good angel became a devil, whence
also was the evil will in him whereby he became a devil,
seeing that the angel was made altogether good by that
most good Creator?" By these reflections was I again
cast down and stifled; yet not plunged into that hell of
138 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VII,
error (where no man confesseth unto Thee), to_think
that Thou dost suffer evil, rather than that man doth it.
CHAP. iv. That God is not corruptible, who, if He were^ would
not be God at all.
6. For I was so struggling to find out the rest, as hav-
ing already found that what was incorruptible must be
better than the corruptible 5 and Thee, therefore, whatso-
ever Thou wert, did I acknowledge to be incorruptible.
For never yet was, nor will be, a soul able to conceive of
anything better than Thou, who art the highest and best
good. But whereas most truly and certainly that which
is incorruptible is to be preferred to the corruptible (like
as I myself did now prefer it), then, if Thou were not
incorruptible, I could in my thoughts have reached unto
something better than my God. Where, then, I saw that
the incorruptible was to be preferred to the corruptible, there
ought I to seek Thee, and there observe "whence evil itself
was," that is, whence comes the corruption by which Thy sub-
stance can by no means be profaned. For corruption,
truly, in no way injures our God, by no will, by no neces-
sity, by no unforeseen chance, because He is God, and
what He wills is good, and Himself is that good 5 but to
be corrupted is not good. Nor art Thou compelled to do
anything against Thy will in that Thy will is not greater
than Thy power. But greater should it be wert Thou
Thyself greater than Thyself 5 for the will and power of
God is God Himself. And what can be unforeseen by
Thee, who knowest all things? Nor is there any sort of
nature but Thou knowest it. And what more should we
say "why that substance which God is should not be cor-
ruptible," seeing that if it were so it could not be God?
CHAP. V.] CONCERNING EVIL 139
CHAP. v. Questions concerning the origin of evil in regard, to
God) who, since He is the chief good, cannot be the cause of evil.
7. And I sought "whence is evil?" And sought in an
evil way; nor saw I the evil in my very search. And I
set in order before the view of my spirit the whole crea-
tion, and whatever we can discern in it, such as earth, sea,
air, stars, trees, living creatures j yea, and whatever in it
we do not see, as the firmament of heaven, all the angels,
too, and all the spiritual inhabitants thereof. But these
very beings, as though they were bodies, did my fancy
dispose in such and such places, and I made one huge
mass of all Thy creatures, distinguished according" to the
kinds of bodies, some of them being real bodies, some
what I myself had feigned for spirits. And this mass
I made huge, not as it was, which I could not know, but
as large as I thought well, yet every way finite. But Thee,
Lord, I imagined on every part environing and pene-
trating it, though every way infinite j as if there were a
sea everywhere, and on every side through immensity noth-
ing but an infinite sea $ and it contained within itself some
sponge, huge, though finite, so that the sponge would in all
its parts be filled from the immeasurable sea. So conceived
1 Thy creation to be itself finite, and filled by Thee, the
Infinite. And I said, Behold God, and behold what God
hath created 5 and God is good, yea, most mightily and in-
comparably better than all these j but yet He, who is good,
hath created them good, and behold how He encircleth and
filleth them. Where, then, is evil, and whence, and how
crept it in hither? What is its root, and what its seed? Or
hath it no being at all? Why, then, do we fear and shun
that which hath no being? Or if we fear it needlessly, then
CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VII.
surely is that fear evil whereby the heart is unneces-
sarily pricked and tormented, and so much a greater evil,
as we have naught to fear, and yet do fear. Therefore
either that is evil which we fear, or the act of fearing is in
itself evil. Whence, therefore, is it, seeing that God, who
is good, hath made all these things good? He, indeed, the
greatest and chief est Good, hath created these lesser goods j
but both Creator and created are all good. Whence is evil?
Or was there some evil matter of which He made and
formed and ordered it, but left something in it which He
did not convert into good? But why was this? Was He
powerless to change the whole lump, so that no evil should
remain * in it, seeing that He is omnipotent? Lastly, why
would He make anything at all of it, and not rather by the
same omnipotency cause it not to be at all? Or could it in-
deed exist contrary to His will? Or if it were from eternity,
why did He permit it so to be for infinite spaces of time in
the past, and was pleased so long after to make something
out of it? Or if He wished now all of a sudden to do some-
thing, this rather should the Omnipotent have accomplished,
that this evil matter should not be at all, and that He only
should be the whole, true, chief, and infinite Good. Or if
it were not good that He, who was good, should not also be
the framer and creator of what was good, then that matter
which was evil being removed, and brought to nothing, He
might form good matter, whereof He might create all
things. For He would not be omnipotent were He not able
to create something good without being assisted by that mat-
ter which had not been created by Himself. Such like
things did I revolve in my miserable breast, overwhelmed
with most gnawing cares lest I should die ere I discovered
the truth j yet was the faith of Thy Christ, our Lord and
CHAP. VI,] ASTROLOGY
Saviour, as held in the Catholic Church, fixed firmly in my
heart, unformed, indeed, as yet upon many points, and di-
verging from doctrinal rules, but yet my mind did not utterly
leave it, but every day rather drank in more and more of it.
CHAP. vi. He refutes the divinations of the astrologers, deduced
from the constellations.
8. Now also had I repudiated the lying divinations and
impious absurdities of the astrologers. Let Thy mercies, out
of the depth of my soul, confess unto thee for this also, O
my God. For Thou, Thou altogether, for who else is it
that calls us back from the death of all errors, but that Life
which knows not how to die, and the Wisdom which, requir-
ing no light, enlightens the minds that do, whereby the uni-
verse is governed, even to the fluttering leaves of trees?
Thou providest also for my obstinacy wherewith I struggled
with Vindicianus, an acute old man, and Nebridius, a young
one of remarkable talent 5 the former vehemently declaring,
and the latter frequently, though with a certain measure of
doubt, saying, "That no art existed by which to foresee fu-
ture things, but that men's surmises had oftentimes the help
of luck, and that of many things which they foretold some
came to pass unawares to the predicters, who lighted on it
by their oft speaking." Thou, therefore, didst provide a
friend for me, who was no negligent consulter of the astrolo-
gers, and yet not thoroughly skilled in those arts, but, as I
said, a curious consulter with them; and yet knowing some-
what, which he said he had heard from his father, which,
how far it would tend to overthrow the estimation of that
art, he knew not. This man, then, by name Firminius, having
received a liberal education, and being well versed in rheto-
ric, consulted me, as one very dear to him, as to what I
142 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VII
thought on some affairs of his, wherein his worldly hopes
had risen, viewed with regard to his so-called constellations}
and I, who had now begun to lean in this particular towards
Nebridius' opinion, did not indeed decline to speculate about
the matter, and to tell him what came into my irresolute
mind, but still added that I was now almost persuaded that
these were but empty and ridiculous follies. Upon this he
told me that his father had been very curious in such books,
and that he had a friend who was as interested in them as he
was himself, who, with combined study and consultation,
fanned the flame of their affection for these toys, insomuch
that they would observe the moment when the very dumb
animals which bred in their houses brought forth, and then
observed the position of the heavens with regard to them,
so as to gather fresh proofs of this so-called art. He said,
moreover, that his father had told him, that at the time his
mother was about to give birth to him (Firminius), a female
servant of that friend of his father's was also great with
child, which could not be hidden from her master, who took
care with most diligent exactness to know of the birth of his
very dogs. And so it came to pass that (the one for his wife,
and the other for his servant, with the most careful observa-
tion, calculating the days and hours, and the smaller divisions
of the hours) both were delivered at the same moment, so
that both were compelled to allow the very selfsame con-
stellations, even to the minutest point, the one for his son,
the other for his young slave. For as soon as the women
began to be in travail, they each gave notice to the other of
what was fallen out in their respective houses, and had mes-
sengers ready to despatch to one another so soon as they
had information of the actual birth, of which they had easily
provided, each in his own province, to give instant intelli-
CHAP. VI.] REFUTATION OF ASTROLOGY '143
gence. Thus, then, he said, the messengers of the respective
parties met one another in such equal distances from either
house, that neither of them could discern any difference
either in the position of the stars or other most minute points.
And yet Firminius, born in a high estate in his parents' house,
ran his course through the prosperous paths of this world,
was increased in wealth, and elevated to honours 5 whereas
that slave the yoke of his condition being unrelaxed con-
tinued to serve his masters, as Firminius, who knew him, in-
formed me.
9. Upon hearing and believing these things, related by
so reliable a person, all that resistance of mine melted away 3
and first I endeavoured to reclaim Firminius himself from
that curiosity, by telling him, that upon inspecting his constel-
lations, I ought, were I to foretell truly, to have seen in them
parents eminent among their neighbours, a noble family in
its own city, good birth, becoming education, and liberal
learning. But if that servant had consulted me upon the
same constellations, since they were his also, I ought again to
tell him, likewise truly, to see in them the meanness of his
origin, the abjectness of his condition, and everything else
altogether removed from and at variance with the former.
Whence, then, looking upon the same constellations, I
should, if I spoke the truth, speak diverse things, or if I
spoke the same, speak falsely ; thence assuredly was it to be
gathered, that whatever, upon consideration of the constella-
tions, was foretold truly, was not by art, but by chance 5 and
whatever falsely, was not from the unskilf ulness of the art,
but the error of chance.
10. An opening being thus made, I ruminated within my-
self on such things, that no one of those dotards (who fol-
lowed such occupations, and whom I longed to assail, and
144 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK. VII,
with derision to confute) might urge against me that Fir-
minius had informed me falsely, or his father him: I turned
my thoughts to those that are born twins, who generally come
out of the womb so near one to another, that the small dis-
tance of time between them how much force soever they
may contend that it has in the nature of things cannot be
noted by human observation, or be expressed in those figures
which the astrologer is to examine that he may pronounce the
truth. Nor can they be true; for, looking into the same
figures, he must have foretold the same of Esau and Jacob,
whereas the same did not happen to them. He must there-
fore speak falsely 5 or if truly, then, looking into the same
figures, he must not speak the same things. Not then by art,
but by chance, would he speak truly. For Thou, O Lord,
most righteous Ruler of the universe, the inquirers and in-
quired of knowing it not, workest by a hidden inspiration
that the consulter should hear what, according to the hidden
deservings of souls, he ought to hear, out of the depth of
Thy righteous judgment, to whom let not man say, "What
is this?" or "Why that?" Let him not say so, for he is man.
CHAP. vil. He is severely exercised as to the origin of evil.
ii. And now, O my Helper, hadst Thou freed me from
those fetters 5 and I inquired, "Whence is evil?" and found
no result. But Thou sufferedst me not to be carried away
from the faith by any fluctuations of thought, whereby I
believed Thee both to exist, and Thy substance to be un-
changeable, and that Thou hadst a care of and wouldest
judge men 5 and that in Christ, Thy Son, our Lord, and the
Holy Scriptures, which the authority of Thy Catholic Church
pressed upon me, Thou hadst planned the way of man's sal-
vation to that life which is to come after this death. These
CHAP. VII.] HE ENDURES TORMENTS 145
things being safe and immovably settled in my mind, I eag-
erly inquired, "Whence is evil?" What torments did my
travailing heart then endure! What sighs, O my God! Yet
even there were Thine ears open, and I knew it not; and
when in stillness I sought earnestly, those silent contritions
of my soul were strong cries unto Thy mercy. No man
knoweth, but only Thou, what I endured. For what was that
which was thence through my tongue poured into the ears
of my most familiar friends? Did the whole tumult of my
soul, for which neither time nor speech was sufficient, reach
them? Yet went the whole into Thine ears, all of which I
bellowed out from the sighings of my heart; and my desire
was before Thee, and the light of mine eyes was not with
me; for that was within, I without. Nor was that in place,
but my attention was directed to things contained in place;
but there did I find no resting-place, nor did they receive me
in such a way as that I could say, **It is sufficient, it is well;"
nor did they let me turn back, where it might be well enough
with me. For to these things was I superior, but inferior to
Thee; and Thou art my true joy when I am subjected to
Thee, and Thou hadst subjected to me what Thou createdst
beneath me. And this was the true temperature and middle
region of my safety, to continue in Thine image, and by serv-
ing Thee to have dominion over the body. But when I lifted
myself proudly against Thee, and "ran against the Lord,
even on His neck, with the thick bosses" of my buckler, even
these inferior things were placed above me, and pressed upon
me, and nowhere was there alleviation or breathing space.
They encountered my sight on every side in crowds and
troops, and in thought the images of bodies obtruded them-
selves as I was returning to Thee, as if they would say unto
me, "Whither goest thou, unworthy and base one?" And
14.6 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VII.
these things had sprung forth out of my wound; for thou
humblest the proud like one that is wounded, and through
my own swelling was I separated from Thee 5 yea, my too
much swollen face closed up mine eyes.
CHAP. vni. By God?s assistance he by degrees arrives at the truth.
12, "But Thou, O Lord, shalt endure for ever," yet not
for ever art Thou angry with us, because Thou dost commis-
erate our dust and ashes 5 and it was pleasing in Thy sight to
reform my deformity, and by inward stings didst Thou dis-
turb me, that I should be dissatisfied until Thou wert made
sure to my inward sight. And by the secret hand of Thy
remedy was my swelling lessened, and the disordered and
darkened eyesight of my mind, by the sharp anointings of
healthful sorrows, was from day to day made whole.
CHAP. DC. He compares the doctrine of the Platonlsts concerning
the Aoyoc with the much more excellent doctrine of Christianity.
13. And Thou, willing first to show me how Thou "re-
sistest the proud, but givest grace unto the humble," and by
how great an act of mercy Thou hadst pointed out to men the
path of humility, in that Thy "Word was made flesh" and
dwelt among men, Thou procuredst for me, by the instru-
mentality of one inflated with most monstrous pride, certain
books of the Platonists, (20) translated from Greek into
Latin, And therein I read, not indeed in the same words, but
to the selfsame effect, enforced by many and divers reasons,
that, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was
with God, and the Word was God. The same was in the be-
ginning with God. All things were made by Him; and with-
out Him was not any thing made that was made." That
which was made by Him is "life; and the life was the light
CHAP. IX.] THE DOCTRINE OF THE LOGOS 147
of men. And the light shineth in darkness 5 and the dark-
ness comprehendeth it not/' And that the soul of man,
though it "bears witness of the light," yet itself "is not that
light ; but the Word of God, being God, is that true light
that lighteth every man that cometh into the world." And
that "He was in the world, and the world was made by Him,
and the world knew Him not." But that "He came unto
His own, and His own received Him not. But as many as
received Him, to them gave He power to become the sons
of God, even to them that believe on His name." This I did
not read there.
14. In like manner, I read there that God the Word was
born not of flesh, nor of blood, nor of the will of man, nor of
the will of the flesh, but of God. But that "the Word was
made flesh, and dwelt among us," I read not there. For I
discovered in those books that it was in many and divers ways
said, that the Son was in the form of the Father, and
"thought it not robbery to be equal with God," for that nat-
urally He was the same substance. But that He emptied
Himself, "and took upon Him the form of a servant, and
was made in the likeness of men: and being found in fashion
as a man, He humbled Himself, and became obedient unto
death, even the death of the cross. Wherefore God also
hath highly exalted Him" from the dead, "and given Him
a name above every name; that at the name of Jesus every
knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth,
and things under the earth; and that every tongue should
confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the
Father;" those books have not. For that before all time,
and above all times, Thy only-begotten Son remaineth un-
changeably co-eternal with Thee; and that of "His fulness"
souls receive, that they may be blessed; and that by par-
148 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VII.
ticipation of the wisdom remaining in them they are renewed,
that they may be wise, is there. But that "in due time Christ
died for the ungodly," and that Thou sparedst not Thine
only Son, but deliveredst Him up for us all, is not there.
"Because Thou hast hid these things from the wise and pru-
dent, and hast revealed them unto babes;" that they "that
labour and are heavy laden" might "come" unto Him and
He might refresh them, because He is "meek and lowly in
heart." "The meek will He guide in judgment 5 and the
meek will He teach His way 5" looking upon our humility
and our distress, and forgiving all our sins But such as are
puffed up with the elation of would-be sublimer learning, do
not hear Him saying, "Learn of Me; for I am meek and
lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls." "Be-
cause that, when they knew God, they glorified Him not as
God, neither were thankful; but became vain in their imagi-
nations, and their foolish heart was darkened. Professing
themselves to be wise, they became fools."
15. And therefore also did I read there, that they had
changed the glory of Thy incorruptible nature into idols and
divers forms, "into an image made like to corruptible man,
and to birds, and four-footed beasts, and creeping things,"
namely, into that Egyptian food for which Esau lost his
birthright; for that Thy first-born people worshipped the
head of a four-footed beast instead of Thee, turning back
in heart towards Egypt, and prostrating Thy image their
own soul before the image "of an ox that eateth grass."
These things found I there; but I fed not on them. For it
pleased Thee, O Lord, to take away the reproach of dimi-
nution from Jacob, that the elder should serve the younger;
and Thou hast called the Gentiles into Thine inheritance.
And I had come unto Thee from among the Gentiles, and I
CHAP. X.] HOW TO KNOW THE TRUTH 149
strained after that gold which Thou willedst Thy people to
take from Egypt, seeing that wheresoever it was it was
Thine* And to the Athenians Thou saidst by Thy apostle,
that in Thee "we live, and move, and have our being ; " as
one of their own poets has said. And verily these books
came from thence. But I set not my mind on the idols of
Egypt, whom they ministered to with Thy gold, "who
changed the truth of God into a lie, and worshipped and
served the creature more than the Creator."
CHAP. x. Divine things are the more clearly manifested, to him
who withdraws into the recesses of his heart.
1 6. And being thence warned to return to myself, I
entered into my inward self, Thou leading me on; and I
was able to do it, for Thou wert become my helper. And I
entered, and with the eye of my soul (such as it was) saw
above the same eye of my soul, above my mind, the Un-
changeable Light. Not this common light, which all flesh
may look upon, nor, as it were, a greater one of the same
kind, as though the brightness of this should be much more
resplendent, and with its greatness fill up all things. Not
like this was that light, but different, yea, very different
from all these. Nor was it above my mind as oil is above
water, nor as heaven above earth 5 but above it was, because it
made me, and I below it, because I was made by it. He who
knows the Truth knows that Light ; and he that knows it
knoweth eternity. Love knoweth it. O Eternal Truth, and
true Love, and loved Eternity! Thou art my God; to Thee
do I sigh both night and day. When I first knew Thee,
Thou liftedst me up, that I might see there was that which
I might see, and that yet it was not I that did see. And Thou
didst beat back the infirmity of my sight, pouring forth upon
J 5 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VII,
me most strongly Thy beams of light, and I trembled with
love and fear ; and I found myself to be far off from Thee,
in the region of dissimilarity, as if I heard this voice of Thine
from on high: "I am the food of strong men ; grow, and
thou shalt feed upon me j nor shalt thou convert me, like
the food of thy flesh, into thee, but thou shalt be converted
into me." And I learned that Thou for iniquity dost correct
man, and Thou dost make my soul to consume away like a
spider. And I said, "Is Truth, therefore, nothing because it
is neither diffused through space, finite, nor infinite?" And
Thou criedst to me from afar, "Yea, verily, *I AM THAT I
AM. ? " And I heard this, as things are heard in the heart,
nor was there room for doubt 5 and I should more readily
doubt that I live than that Truth is not, which is "clearly
seen, being understood by the things that are made. 3 '
CHAP. XI. That creatures are mutable and- God, alone immutable.
17. And I viewed the other things below Thee, and per-
ceived that they neither altogether are, nor altogether are
not. They are, indeed, because they are from Theej but are
not, because they are not what Thou art. For that truly is
which remains immutably. It is good, then, for me to cleave
unto God, for if I remain not in Him, neither shall I in my-
self ; but He, remaining in Himself, reneweth all things.
And Thou art the Lord my God, since Thou standest not
in need of my goodness.
CHAP. xn. Whatever things the good God has created, are very
good.
1 8. And it was made clear unto me that those things are
good which yet are corrupted, which, neither were they
supremely good, nor unless they were good, could be cor-
CHAP. XIII.] GOD MADE ALL THINGS GOOD
rupted; because if supremely good, they were incorruptible,
and if not good at all, there were nothing in them to be cor-
rupted. For corruption harms, but, unless it could diminish
goodness, it could not harm. Either, then, corruption harms
not, which cannot be 5 or, what is most certain, all which is
corrupted is deprived of good. But if they be deprived of
all good, they will cease to be. For if they be, and cannot be
at all corrupted, they will become better, because they shall
remain incorruptibly. And what more monstrous than to
assert that those things which have lost all their goodness are
made better? Therefore, if they shall be deprived of all
good, they shall no longer be. So long, therefore, as they
are, they are good 5 therefore whatsoever is, is good. That
evil, then, which I sought whence it was, is not any substance 5
for were it a substance, it would be good. For either it
would be an incorruptible substance, and so a chief good,
or a corruptible substance, which unless it were good it could
not be corrupted. I perceived, therefore, and it was made
clear to me, that Thou didst make all things good, nor is
there any substance at all that was not made by Thee; and
because all that Thou hast made are not equal, therefore all
things are 5 because individually they are good, and alto-
gether very good, because our God made all things very
good.
CHAP. xni. It is meet to praise the Creator for the good things
which are made in heaven and earth.
19. And to Thee is there nothing at all evil, and not only
to Thee, but to Thy whole creation 5 because there is nothing
without which can break in, and mar that order which Thou
hast appointed it. But in the parts thereof, some things, be-
cause they harmonize not with others, are considered evilj
152 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VII.
whereas those very things harmonize with others, and are
good, and in themselves are good. And all these things
which do not harmonize together harmonize with the inferior
part which we call earth, having its own cloudy and windy
sky concordant to it. Far be it from me, then, to say, "These
things should not be." For should I see nothing but these,
I should indeed desire better ; but yet, if only for these,
ought I to praise Thee 5 for that Thou art to be praised is
shown from the "earth, dragons, and all deeps; fire, and
hail 5 snow, and vapours; stormy winds fulfilling Thy word;
mountains, and all hills; fruitful trees, and all cedars; beasts,
and all cattle; creeping things, and flying fowl; kings of the
earth, and all people; princes, and all judges of the earth;
both young men and maidens; old men and children," praise
Thy name. But when, "from the heavens," these praise
Thee, praise Thee, our God, "in the heights," all Thy
"angels," all Thy "hosts," "sun and moon," all ye stars
and light, "the heavens of heavens," and the "waters that
be above the heavens," praise Thy name. I did not now
desire better things, because I was thinking of all; and
with a better judgment I reflected that the things above were
better than those below, but that all were better than those
above alone.
CHAP, xiv* Being displeased with some -part of God's creation, he
conceives of two original substances.
20. There is no wholeness in them whom aught of Thy
creation displeaseth; no more than there was in me, when
many things which Thou madest displeased me. And, be-
cause my soul dared not be displeased at my God, it would
not suffer aught to be Thine which displeased it. Hence it
had gone into the opinion of two substances, and resisted not,
CHAP. XV.] TWO ORIGINAL SUBSTANCES 153
but talked foolishly. And, returning thence, it had made
to itself a god, through infinite measures of all space; and
imagined it to be Thee, and placed it in its heart, and again
had become the temple of its own idol, which was to Thee
an abomination. But after Thou hadst fomented the head
of me unconscious of it, and closed mine eyes lest they should
"behold vanity," I ceased from myself a little, and my mad-
ness was lulled to sleep; and I awoke in Thee, and saw Thee
to be infinite, though in another way; and this sight was not
derived from the flesh.
CHAP. xv. Whatever is, owes its being to God.
21. And I looked back on other things, and I perceived
that it was to Thee they owed their being, and that they were
all bounded in Thee; but in another way, not as being in
space, but because Thou boldest all things in Thine hand in
truth: and all things are true so far as they have a being j
nor is there any falsehood, unless that which is not is thought
to be. And I saw that all things harmonized, not with their
places only, but with their seasons also. And that Thou, who
only art eternal, didst not begin to work after innumerable
spaces of times; for that all spaces of times, both those which
have passed and which shall pass, neither go nor come, save
through Thee, working and abiding.
CHAP. xvi. Evil arises not from a substance^ but from the fer~
version of the will.
12. And I discerned and found it no marvel, that bread
which is distasteful to an unhealthy palate is pleasant to a
healthy one; and that the light, which is painful to sore eyes,
is delightful to sound ones. And Thy righteousness displeas-
eth the wicked; much more the viper and little worm, which
154 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VII*
Thou hast created good, fitting in with inferior parts of Thy
creation; with which the wicked themselves also fit in, the
more in proportion as they are unlike Thee, but with the
superior creatures, in proportion as they become like to Thee.
And I inquired what iniquity was, and ascertained it not to
be a substance, but a perversion of the will, bent aside from
Thee, O God, the Supreme Substance, towards these lower
things, and casting out its bowels, and swelling outwardly.
CHAP. XVII. Above his changeable mind, he discovers the un~
changeable Author of Truth.
23. And I marvelled that I now loved Thee, and no
phantasm instead of Thee. And yet I did not merit to enjoy
my God, but was transported to Thee by Thy beauty, and
presently torn away from Thee by mine own weight, sinking
with grief into these inferior things. This weight was carnal
custom. Yet was there a remembrance of Thee with me; nor
did I any way doubt that there was one to whom I might
cleave, but that I was not yet one who could cleave unto
Thee; for that the body which is corrupted presseth down
the soul, and the earthly dwelling weigheth down the mind
which thinketh upon many things. And most certain I was
that Thy "invisible things from the creation of the world are
clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made,
even Thy eternal power and Godhead." For, inquiring
whence it was that I admired the beauty of bodies whether
celestial or terrestrial, and what supported me in judging
correctly on things mutable, and pronouncing, "This should
be thus, this not," inquiring, then, whence I so judged, see-
ing I did so judge, I had found the unchangeable and true
eternity of Truth, above my changeable mind. And thus.
CHAP. XVIII.] THE LIGHT UNCHANGEABLE 1 55
by degrees, I passed from bodies to the soul, which makes use
of the senses of the body to perceive; and thence to its in-
ward faculty, to which the bodily senses represent outward
things, and up to which reach the capabilities of beasts 5 and
thence, again, I passed on to the reasoning faculty, unto which
whatever is received from the senses of the body is referred
to be judged, which also, finding itself to be variable in me,
raised itself up to its own intelligence, and from habit drew
away my thoughts, withdrawing itself from the crowds of
contradictory phantasms ; that so it might find out that light
by which it was besprinkled, when, without all doubting, it
cried out, "that the unchangeable was to be preferred before
the changeable ;" whence also it knew that unchangeable,
which, unless it had in some way known, it could have had
no sure ground for preferring it to the changeable. And
thus, with the flash of a trembling glance, it arrived at that
which is. And then I saw Thy invisible things understood by
the things that are made. But I was not able to fix my gaze
thereon j and my infirmity being beaten back, I was thrown
again on my accustomed habits, carrying along with me
naught but a loving memory thereof, and an appetite for
what I had, as it were, smelt the odour of, but was not yet
able to eat.
CHAP* xvni. Jesus Christy the Mediatory Is the only way of safety.
24. And I sought a way of acquiring strength sufficient
to enjoy Thee; but I found it not until I embraced that
"Mediator between God and man, the man Christ Jesus,"
"who is over all, God blessed for ever," calling unto me, and
saying, "I am the way, the truth, and the life," and mingling
that food which I was unable to receive with our flesh. For
1^6 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VII
"the Word was made flesh/ 7 that Thy wisdom, by which
Thou createdst all things, might provide milk for our in-
fancy. For I did not grasp my Lord Jesus, I, though hum-
bled, grasped not the humble One; nor did I know what les-
son that infirmity of His would teach us. For Thy Word,
the Eternal Truth, pre-eminent above the higher parts of
Thy creation, raises up those that are subject unto Itself j but
in this lower world built for Itself a humble habitation of
our clay, whereby He intended to abase from themselves
such as would be subjected and bring them over unto Him-
self, allaying their swelling, and fostering their love 5 to the
end that they might go on no further in self-confidence, but
rather should become weak, seeing before their feet the
Divinity weak by taking our "coats of skins;" and wearied,
might cast themselves down upon It, and It rising, might
lift them up.
CHAP* xix. He does not yet fully understand the saying of John,
That "the Word was made flesh."
25. But I thought differently, thinking only of my Lord
Christ as of a man of excellent wisdom, to whom no man
could be equalled 5 especially for that, being wonderfully
born of a virgin, He seemed, through the divine care for us,
to have attained so great authority of leadership, for an
example of contemning temporal things for the obtaining
of immortality. But what mystery there was in, "The Word
was made flesh," I could not even imagine. Only I had
learnt out of what is delivered to us in writing of Him, that
He did eat, drink, sleep, walk, rejoice in spirit, was sad, and
discoursed; that flesh alone did not cleave unto Thy Word,
but with the human soul and body. All know thus who know
CHAP. XIX.] THE WORD MADE FLESH 157
the unchangeableness of Thy Word, which I now knew
as well as I could, nor did I at all have any doubt about it.
For, now to move the limbs of the body at will, now not 5
now to be stirred by some affection, now not; now by signs
to enunciate wise sayings, now to keep silence, are properties
of a soul and mind subject to change. And should these
things be falsely written of Him, all the rest would risk the
imputation, nor would there remain in those books any saving
faith for the human race. Since, then, they were written
truthfully, I acknowledged a perfect man to be in Christ
not the body of a man only, nor with the body a sensitive
soul without a rational, but a very man 3 whom, not only as
being a form of truth, but for a certain great excellency of
human nature and a more perfect participation of wisdom, I
decided was to be preferred before others. But Alypius im-
agined the Catholics to believe that God was so clothed with
flesh, that, besides God and flesh, there was no soul in Christ,
and did not think that a human mind was ascribed to Him.
And, because he was thoroughly persuaded that the actions
which were recorded of Him could not be performed except
by a vital and rational creature, he moved the more slowly
towards the Christian faith. But, learning afterwards that
this was the error of the Apollinarian heretics, he rejoiced
in the Catholic faith, and was conformed to it. But some-
what later it was, I confess, that I learned how in the sen-
tence, "The Word was made flesh," the Catholic truth can
be distinguished from the falsehood of Plotinus. For the
disapproval of heretics makes the tenets of Thy Church and
sound doctrine to stand out boldly. For there must be also
heresies, that the approved may be made manifest among the
weak.
158 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VII.
CHAP, xx, Re rejoices that he 'proceeded from Plato to the Holy
Scriptures, and not the reverse.
26. But having then read those books of the Platonists,
and being admonished by them to search for incorporeal
truth, I saw Thy invisible things, understood by those things
that are made; and though repulsed, I perceived what that
was, which through the darkness of my mind I was not al-
lowed to contemplate, assured that Thou wert, and wert
infinite, and yet not diffused in space finite or infinite ; and
that Thou truly art, who art the same ever, varying neither
in part nor motion; and that all other things are from Thee,
on this most sure ground alone, that they are. Of these
things was I indeed assured, yet too weak to enjoy Thee. I
chattered as one well skilled; but had I not sought Thy way
in Christ our Saviour, I would have proved not skilful, but
ready to perish. For now, filled with 'my punishment, I
had begun to desire to seem wise; yet mourned I not, but
rather was puffed up with knowledge. For where was that
charity building upon the "foundation" of humility, "which
is Jesus Christ"? Or, when would these books teach me it?
Upon these, therefore, I believe, it was Thy pleasure that I
should fall before I studied Thy Scriptures, that it might be
impressed on my memory how I was affected by them; and
that afterwards when I was subdued by Thy books, and when
my wounds were touched by Thy healing fingers, I might
discern and distinguish what a difference there is between
presumption and confession, between those who saw
whither they were to go, yet saw not the way, and the way
which leadeth not only to behold but to inhabit the blessed
country. For had I first been moulded in Thy Holy Scrip-
tures, and hadst Thou, in the familiar use of them, grown
CHAP. XXI.] HEALING IS IN THE ONLY-BEGOTTEN 159
sweet unto me, and had I afterwards fallen upon those vol-
umes, they might perhaps have withdrawn me from the solid
ground of piety 5 or, had I stood firm in that wholesome dis-
position which I had thence imbibed, I might have thought
that it could have been attained by the study of those books
alone.
CHAP. xxi. What he found in the sacred books which are not to
be found in Plato.
27. Most eagerly, then, did I seize that venerable writing
of Thy Spirit, but more especially the Apostle Paul; and
those difficulties vanished away, in which he at one time
appeared to me to contradict himself, and the text of his dis-
course not to agree with the testimonies of the Law and the
Prophets. And the face of that pure speech appeared to me
one and the same 5 and I learned to "rejoice with trembling."
So I commenced, and found that whatsoever truth I had
there read was declared here with the recommendation of
Thy grace ; that he who sees may not so glory as if he had not
received not only that which he sees, but also that he can see
(for what hath he which he hath not received?) ; and that he
may not only be admonished to see Thee, who art ever the
same, but also may be healed, to hold Thee; and that he who
from afar off is not able to see, may still walk on the way
by which he may reach, behold, and possess Thee. For
though a man "delight in the law of God after the inward
man," what shall he do with that other law in his members
which warreth against the law of his mind, and bringeth him
into captivity to the law of sin, which is in his memories?
For thou art righteous, O Lord, but we have sinned and com-
mitted iniquity, and have done wickedly, and Thy hand is
grown heavy upon us, and we are justly delivered over unto
l60 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VII.
that ancient sinner, the governor of death} for he induced
our will to be like his will, whereby he remained not in Thy
truth. What shall "wretched man" do? "Who shall de-
liver him from the body of this death/' but Thy grace only,
"through Jesus Christ our Lord," whom Thou hast begotten
co-eternal, and createdst in the beginning of Thy ways, in
whom the Prince of this world found nothing worthy of
death, yet killed he Him, and the handwriting which was
contrary to us was blotted out? This those writings contain
not. Those pages contain not the expression of this piety,
the tears of confession, Thy sacrifice, a troubled spirit, "a
broken and a contrite heart," the salvation of the people, the
espoused city, the earnest of the Holy Ghost, the cup of
our redemption. No man sings there, Shall not my soul
be subject unto God? For of Him cometh my salvation, for
He is my God and my salvation, my defender, I shall not
be further moved. No one there hears Him calling, "Come
unto me all ye that labour." They scorn to learn of Him,
because He is meek and lowly of heart} for "Thou hast hid
those things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed
them unto babes." For it is one thing, from the mountain's
wooded summit to see the land of peace, and not to find the
way thither, in vain to attempt impassable ways, opposed
and waylaid by fugitives and deserters, under their captain
the "lion" and the "dragon j" and another to keep to the
way that leads thither, guarded by the host of the heavenly
general, where they rob not who have deserted the heavenly
army, which they shun as torture. These things did in a
wonderful manner sink into my bowels, when I read that
"least of Thy apostles," (21) and had reflected upon Thy
works, and feared greatly.
BOOK EIGHTH
HE FINALLY DESCRIBES THE THIRTY-SECOND YEAR OF HIS AGE, THE MOST
MEMORABLE OF HIS WHOLE LIFE, IN WHICH, BEING INSTRUCTED BY
SIMPLICIANUS CONCERNING THE CONVERSION OF OTHERS, AND THE
MANNER OF ACTING, HE IS, AFTER A SEVERE STRUGGLE, RENEWED IN
HIS WHOLE MIND, AND IS CONVERTED UNTO GOD.
CHAP. i. He, now given to divine things, and yet entangled by
the lusts of love, consults Simplicianus in reference to the
renewing of his mind.
I. f~\ MY GOD, let me with gratitude remember and
V-/ confess unto Thee Thy mercies bestowed upon
me. Let my bones be steeped in Thy love, and let them say,
Who is like unto Thee, O Lord? "Thou hast loosed my
bonds, I will offer unto Thee the sacrifice o thanksgiving."
And how Thou hast loosed them I will declare 5 and all who
worship Thee when they hear these things shall say:
"Blessed be the Lord in heaven and earth, great and won-
derful is His name." Thy words had stuck fast into my
breast, and I was hedged round about by Thee on every side.
Of Thy eternal life I was now certain, although I had seen it
"through a glass darkly." Yet I no longer doubted that
there was an incorruptible substance, from which was derived
all other substance 5 nor did I now desire to be more certain
of Thee, but more stedfast in Thee. As for my temporal
life, all things were uncertain, and my heart had to be purged
from the old leaven. The "Way," the Saviour Himself,
was pleasant unto me, but as yet I disliked to pass through
its straightness. And Thou didst put into my mind, and it
161
CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VIII.
seemed good in my eyes, to go unto Simplicianus, who ap-
peared to me a faithful servant of Thine, and Thy grace
shone in him. I had also heard that from his very youth
he had lived most devoted to Thee. Now he had grown into
years, and by reason of so great age, passed in such zealous
following of Thy ways, he appeared to me likely to have
gained much experience 5 and so in truth he had. Out of
which experience I desired him to tell me (setting before
him my griefs) which would be the most fitting way for one
afflicted as I was to walk in Thy way.
2. For the Church I saw to be full, and one went this
way, and another that. But it was displeasing to me that I
led a secular life 5 yea, now that my passions had ceased to
excite me as of old with hopes of honour and wealth, a very
grievous burden it was to undergo so great a servitude. For,
compared with Thy sweetness, and the beauty of Thy house,
which I loved, those things delighted me no longer. But
still very tenaciously was I held by the love of women j nor
did the apostle forbid me to marry, although he exhorted
me to something better, especially wishing that all men were
as he himself was. But I, being weak, made choice of the
more agreeable place, and because of this alone was tossed
up and down in ail beside, faint and languishing with wither-
ing cares, because in other matters I was compelled, though
unwilling, to agree to a married life, to which I was given up
and enthralled. I had heard from the mouth of truth that
"there be eunuchs, which have made themselves eunuchs for
the kingdom of heaven's sake;" but, said He, "he that is
able to receive it, let him receive it." Vain, assuredly, are
all men in whom the knowledge of God is not, and who could
not, out of the good things which are seen, find out Him who
is good. But I was no longer in that vanity 3 I had sur-
CHAP. II.] VICTORINUS 5 CONVERSION 163
mounted it, and by the united testimony of Thy whole crea-
tion had found Thee, our Creator, and Thy Word, God with
Thee, and together with Thee and the Holy Ghost one God,
by whom Thou createdst all things. There is yet another
kind of impious men, who "when they knew God, they glo-
rified Him not as God, neither were thankful." Into this
also had I f alien 5 but Thy right hand held me up, and
bore me away, and Thou placedst me where I might recover.
For Thou hast said unto man, "Behold, the fear of the Lord,
that is wisdom 5 " and desire not to seem wise, because, "Pro-
fessing themselves to be wise, they became fools." But I
had now found the goodly pearl, which, selling all that I
had, I ought to have bought; and I hesitated.
CHAP. ii. The ^lous old man rejoices that he read Plato and the
Scriptures, and tells him of the rhetorician Victorinus having
been converted to the faith through the reading of the sacred
looks.
3. To Simplicianus then I went, the father of Ambrose
(at that time a bishop) in receiving Thy grace, and whom
he truly loved as a father. To him I narrated the windings
of my error. But when I mentioned to him that I had read
certain books of the Platonists, which Victorinus, sometime
Professor of Rhetoric at Rome (who died a Christian, as I
had been told), had translated into Latin, he congratulated
me that I had not fallen upon the writings of other philoso-
phers, which were full of fallacies and deceit, "after the
rudiments of the world," whereas they, in many ways, led to
the belief in God and His word. Then, to exhort me to the
humility of Christ, hidden from the wise, and revealed to
little ones, he spoke of Victorinus himself, whom, whilst he
was at Rome, he had known very intimately j and of him he
1 64 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VIII.
related that about which I will not be silent. For it contains
great praise of Thy grace., which ought to be confessed unto
Thee, how that most learned old man, highly skilled in all
the liberal sciences, who had read, criticized, and explained so
many works of the philosophers 5 the teacher of so many
noble senators; who also, as a mark of his excellent discharge
of his duties, had (which men of this world esteem a great
honour) both merited and obtained a statue in the Roman
Forum, he, even to that age a worshipper of idols, and a
participator in the sacrilegious rites to which almost all the
nobility of Rome were wedded, and had inspired the people
with the love of
"The dog Anubis, and a medley crew
Of monster gods [who] 'gainst Neptune stand in arms,
'Gainst Venus and Minerva, steel-clad Mars," *
whom Rome once conquered, now worshipped, all which old
Victorinus had with thundering eloquence defended so many
years, he now blushed not to be the child of Thy Christ,
and an infant at Thy fountain, submitting his neck to the
yoke of humility, and subduing his forehead to the reproach
of the Cross.
4. O Lord, Lord, who hast bowed the heavens and come
down, touched the mountains and they did smoke, by what
means didst* Thou convey Thyself into that bosom? He
used to read, as Simplicianus said, the Holy Scripture, most
studiously sought after and searched into all the Christian
writings, and said to Simplicianus, not openly, but secretly,
and as a friend, "Know thou that I am a Christian." To
which he replied, "I will not believe it, nor will I rank you
among the Christians unless I see you in the Church of
, viii. 736-8.
CHAP. II.] CUSTOMS AT BAPTISM 165
Christ." Whereupon he replied derisively, "Is it then the
walls that make Christians?" And this he often said, that
he already was a Christian $ and Simplicianus making the
same answer, the conceit of the "walls" was by the other as
often renewed. For he was fearful of offending his friends,
proud demon-worshippers, from the height of whose Baby-
lonian dignity, as from cedars of Lebanon which had not yet
been broken by the Lord, he thought a storm of enmity
would descend upon him. But after that, from reading and
inquiry, he had derived strength, and feared lest he should
be denied by Christ before the holy angels if he now was
afraid to confess Him before men, and appeared to himself
guilty of a great fault in being ashamed of the sacraments
of the humility of Thy word, and not being ashamed of the
sacrilegious rites of those proud demons, whose pride he had
imitated and their rites adopted, he became bold-faced
against vanity, and shame-faced toward the truth, and sud-
denly and unexpectedly said to Simplicianus, as he himself
informed me, "Let us go to the church; I wish to be made
a Christian," But he, not containing himself for joy, accom-
panied him. And having been admitted to the first sacra-
ments of instruction,(22) he not long after gave in his name,
that he might be regenerated by baptism, Rome marvel-
ling, and the Church rejoicing. The proud saw, and were
enraged 5 they gnashed with their teeth, and melted away!
But the Lord God was the hope of Thy servant, and He
regarded not vanities and lying madness.
5. Finally, when the hour arrived for him to make pro-
fession of his faith (which at Rome they who are about to
approach Thy grace are wont to deliver from an elevated
place, in view of the faithful people, in a set form of words
learnt by heart), the presbyters, he said, offered Victorinus
1 66 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VIII.
to make his profession more privately, as the custom was to
do to those who were likely, through bashfulness, to be
afraid; but he chose rather to profess his salvation in the
presence of the holy assembly. For it was not salvation that
he taught in rhetoric, and yet he had publicly professed that.
How much less, therefore, ought he, when pronouncing Thy
word, to dread Thy meek flock, who, in the delivery of his
own words, had not feared the mad multitudes! So, then,
when he ascended to make his profession, all, as they recog-
nized him, whispered his name one to the other, with a voice
of congratulation. And who was there amongst them that
did not know him? And there ran a low murmur through
the mouths of all the rejoicing multitude, "Victorinus! Vic-
torinus!" Sudden was the burst of exultation at the sight of
him; and suddenly were they hushed, that they might hear
him. He pronounced the true faith with an excellent bold-
ness, and all desired to take him to their very heart yea, by
their love and joy they took him thither j such were the hands
with which they took him*
CHAP. m. That God and the angels rejoice more on the return
of one sinner than of many just persons.
6. Good God, what passed in man to make him rejoice
more at the salvation of a soul despaired of, and delivered
from greater danger, than if there had always been hope of
him, or the danger had been less? For so Thou also, O mer-
ciful Father, dost "joy over one sinner that repenteth, more
than over ninety and nine just persons that need no repent-
ance." And with much joyfulness do we hear, whenever we
hear, how the lost sheep is brought home again on the Shep-
herd's shoulders, while the angels rejoice, and the drachma
is restored to Thy treasury, the neighbours rejoicing with the
CHAP. III.] WE PRIZE WHAT WE NEARLY LOSE l6j
woman who found itj and the joy of the solemn service of
Thy house constraineth to tears, when in Thy house it is read
of Thy younger son that he "was dead, and is alive again, and
was lost, and is found." For Thou rejoicest both in us and in
Thy angels, holy through holy charity. For thou art ever
the same 5 for all things which abide neither the same nor
for ever, Thou ever knowest after the same manner.
7. What, then, passes in the soul when it more delights
at finding or having restored to it the things it loves than
if it had always possessed them? Yea, and other things bear
witness hereunto 5 and all things are full of witnesses, crying
out, "So it is." The victorious commander triumpheth ; yet
he would not have conquered had he not fought, and the
greater the peril of the battle, the more the rejoicing of the
triumph. The storm tosses the voyagers, threatens ship-
wreck, and every one waxes pale at the approach of death 5
but sky and sea grow calm, and they rejoice much, as they
feared much. A loved one is sick, and his pulse indicates
danger j all who desire his safety are at once sick at heart:
he recovers, though not able as yet to walk with his former
strength, and there is such joy as was not before when he
walked sound and strong. Yea, the very pleasures of human
life not those only which rush upon us unexpectedly, and
against our wills, but those that are voluntary and designed
do men obtain by difficulties. There is no pleasure at all
in eating and drinking unless the pains of hunger and thirst
go before. And drunkards eat certain salt meats with the
view of creating a troublesome heat, which the drink allaying
causes pleasure. It is also the custom that the affianced bride
should not immediately be given up, that the husband may
not less esteem her whom, as betrothed, he longed not for.
8. This law obtains in base and accursed joyj in that joy
l68 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VIII.
also which is permitted and lawful ; in the sincerity of honest
friendship 5 and in Him who was dead, and lived again, had
been lost, and was found. The greater joy is everywhere
preceded by the greater pain. What meaneth this, O Lord
my God, when Thou art an everlasting joy unto Thine own
self, and some things about Thee are ever rejoicing in Thee?
What meaneth this, that this portion of things thus ebbs and
flows, alternately offended and reconciled? Is this the fash-
ion of them, and is this all Thou hast allotted to them,
whereas, from the highest heaven to the lowest earth, from
the beginning of the world to its end, from the angel to the
worm, from the first movement unto the last, Thou settedst
each in its right place, and appointedst each its proper seasons,
everything good after its kind? Woe is me! How high art
Thou in the highest, and how deep in the deepest! Thou
withdrawest no whither, and scarcely do we return to Thee.
CHAP. iv. He shows by the example of Victorinus that there is
-more joy in the conversion of nobles.
9. Haste, Lord, and act; stir us up, and call us back; in-
flame us, and draw us to Thee; stir us up, and grow sweet
unto us ; let us now love Thee, let us "run after Thee." Do
not many men, out of a deeper hell of blindness than that
of Victorinus, return unto Thee, and approach, and are en-
lightened, receiving that light, which they that receive, re-
ceive power from Thee to become Thy sons? But if they be
less known among the people, even they that know them
joy less for them. For when many rejoice together, the joy
of each one is the fuller, in that they are incited and inflamed
by one another. Again, because those that are known to many
influence many towards salvation, and take the lead with
many to follow them. And, therefore, do they also who
CHAP. V.] INFLUENCE OF THOSE IN AUTHORITY 169
preceded them much rejoice in regard to them, because they
rejoice not in them alone. May it be averted that in Thy
tabernacle the persons of the rich should be accepted before
the poor, or the noble before the ignoble ; since rather "Thou
hast chosen the weak things of the world to confound the
things which are mighty 5 and base things of the world, and
things which are despised, hast Thou chosen, yea, and things
which are not, to bring to naught things that are." And yet,
even that "least of the apostles," by whose tongue Thou
soundest out these words, when Paulus the proconsul his
pride overcome by the apostle's welfare was made to pass
under the easy yoke of Thy Christ, and became a provincial
of the great King, he also, instead of Saul, his former name,
desired to be called Paul, in testimony of so great a victory.
For the enemy is more overcome in one of whom he hath
more hold, and by whom he hath hold of more. But the
proud hath he more hold of by reason of their nobility j and
by them of more, by reason of their authority. By how
much the more welcome, then, was the heart of Victorinus
esteemed, which the devil had held as an unassailable retreat,
and the tongue of Victorinus, with which mighty and cut-
ting weapon he had slain many 5 so much the more abun-
dantly should Thy sons rejoice, seeing that our King hath
bound the strong man, and they saw his vessels taken from
him and cleansed, and made meet for Thy honour, and be-
come serviceable for the Lord unto every good work.
CHAP. v. Of the causes which alienate us from God.
10. But when that man of Thine, Simplicianus, related
this to me about Victorinus, I burned to imitate him 5 and
it was for this end he had related it. But when he had added
this also, that in the time of the Emperor Julian, there .was
I7O CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VIII.
a law made by which Christians were forbidden to teach
grammar and oratory, and he, in obedience to this law, chose
rather to abandon the wordy school than Thy word, by which
Thou makest eloquent the tongues of the dumb, he ap-
peared to me not more brave than happy, in having thus
discovered an opportunity of waiting on Thee only, which
thing I was sighing for, thus bound, not with the irons of
another, but my own iron will. My will was the enemy
master of, and thence had made a chain for me and bound
me. Because of a perverse will was Just made 5 and lust in-
dulged in became custom ; and custom not resisted became
necessity. By which links, as it were, joined together
(whence I term it a "chain"), did a hard bondage hold me
enthralled. But that new will which had begun to develope
in me, freely to worship Thee, and to wish to enjoy Thee,
O God, the only sure enjoyment, was not able as yet to
overcome my former wilf ulness, made strong by long indul-
gence. Thus did my two wills, one old and the other new,
one carnal, the other spiritual, contend within me 5 and by
their discord they unstrung my soul.
1 1. Thus came I to understand, from my own experience,
what I had read, how that "the flesh lusteth against the
Spirit, and the Spirit against the flesh." I verily lusted both
ways 5 yet more in that which I approved in myself, than in
that which I disapproved in myself. For in this last it was
now rather not "I," because in much I rather suffered against
my will than did it willingly. And yet it was through me
that custom became more combative against me, because I
had come willingly whither I willed not. And who, then,
can with any justice speak against it, when just punishment
follows the sinner? Nor had I now any longer my wonted
excuse, that as yet I hesitated to be above the world and serve
CHAP. V.] THE PERVERSENESS OF HIS WILL IJI
Thee, because my perception of the truth was uncertain; for
now it was certain. But I, still bound to the earth, refused to
be Thy soldier; and was as much afraid of being freed from
all embarrassments, as we ought to fear to be embarrassed.
12. Thus with the baggage of the world was I sweetly
burdened, as when in slumber 5 and the thoughts wherein I
meditated upon Thee were like unto the efforts of those
desiring to awake, who, still overpowered with a heavy
drowsiness, are again steeped therein. And as no one de-
sires to sleep always, and in the sober judgment of all waking
is better, yet does a man generally defer to shake off drowsi-
ness, when there is a heavy lethargy in all his limbs, and,
though displeased, yet even after it is time to rise with pleas-
ure yields to it, so was I assured that it were much better
for me to give up myself to Thy charity, than to yield myself
to my own cupidity 5 but the former course satisfied and van-
quished me, the latter pleased me and fettered me. Nor
had I aught to answer Thee calling to me, "Awake, thou
that sleepest, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give
thee light." And to Thee showing me on every side, that
what Thou saidst was true, I, convicted by the truth, had
nothing at all to reply, but the drawling and drowsy words:
"Presently, lo, presently ;" "leave me a little while." But
"presently, presently," had no present; and my "leave me
a little while" went on for a long while. In vain did I "de-
light in Thy law after the inner man," when "another law
in my members warred against the law of my mind, and
brought me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my
members." For the law of sin is the violence of custom,
whereby the mind is drawn and held, even against its will;
deserving to be so held in that it so willingly falls into it.
"O wretched man that I am! who shall deliver me from the
172 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VIII.
body of this death" but Thy grace only, through Jesus
Christ our Lord?
CHAP. vi. Pontitianus* account of Antony, the founder of Mono*
chism, and of some who imitated him.
13. And how, then, Thou didst deliver me out of the
bonds of carnal desire, wherewith I was most firmly fettered,
and out of the drudgery of worldly business, will I now de-
clare and confess unto Thy name, "O Lord, my strength and
my Redeemer." Amid increasing anxiety, I was transacting
my usual affairs, and daily sighing unto Thee. I resorted as
frequently to Thy church as the business, under the burden
of which I groaned, left me free to do. Alypius was with
me, being after the third sitting disengaged from his legal
occupation, and awaiting further opportunity of selling his
counsel, as I was wont to sell the power of speaking, if it can
be supplied by teaching. But Nebridius had, on account of
our friendship, consented to teach under Verecundus, a citizen
and a grammarian of Milan, and a very intimate friend of
us all 5 who vehemently desired, and by the right of friend-
ship demanded from our company, the faithful aid he
greatly stood in need of. Nebridius, then, was not drawn to
this by any desire of gain (for he could have made much
more of his learning had he been so inclined), but, as a most
sweet and kindly friend, he would not be wanting in an office
of friendliness, and slight our request. But in this he acted
very discreetly, taking care not to become known to those
personages whom the world esteems great 5 thus avoiding dis-
traction of mind, which he desired to have free and at leisure
as many hours as possible, to search, or read, or hear some-
thing concerning wisdom.
14. Upon a certain day, then, Nebridius being away
CHAP. VI.] PONTITIANUS ON MONACHISM 173
(why, I do not remember) , lo, there came to the house to see
Alypius and me, Pontitianus, a countryman of ours, in so far
as he was an African, who held high office in the emperor's
court. What he wanted with us I know not, but we sat down
to talk together, and it fell out that upon a table before us,
used for games, he noticed a book 5 he took it up, opened it,
and, contrary to his expectation, found it to be the Apostle
Paul, for he imagined it to be one of those books which I
was wearing myself out in teaching. At this he looked up at
me smilingly, and expressed his delight and wonder that he
had so unexpectedly found this book, and this only, before
my eyes. For he was both a Christian and baptized, and
often prostrated himself before Thee our God in the church,
in constant and daily prayers. When, then, I had told him
that I bestowed much pains upon these writings, a conversa-
tion ensued on his speaking of Antony, (23) the Egyptian
monk, whose name was in high repute among Thy servants.,
though up to that time not familiar to us. When he came to
know this, he lingered on that topic, imparting to us a knowl-
edge of this man so eminent, and marvelling at our igno-
rance. But we were amazed, hearing Thy wonderful works
most fully manifested in times so recent, and almost in our
own, wrought in the true faith and the Catholic Church. We
all wondered we, that they were so great, and he, that we
had never heard of them.
15. From this his conversation turned to the companies
in the monasteries, and their manners so fragrant unto Thee,
and of the fruitful deserts of the wilderness, of which we
knew nothing. And there was a monastery at Milan full of
good brethren, without the walls of the city, under the fos-
tering care of Ambrose, and we were ignorant of it. He went
on with his relation, and we listened intently and in silence.
J 74 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VIII.
He then related to us how on a certain afternoon, at Triers,
when the emperor was taken up with seeing the Circensian
games, he and three others, his comrades, went out for a
walk in the gardens close to the city walls, and there, as they
chanced to walk two and two, one strolled away with him,
while the other two went by themselves 5 and these, in their
rambling, came upon a certain cottage inhabited by some of
Thy servants, "poor in spirit," of whom "is the kingdom of
heaven," where they found a book in which was written the
life of Antony. This one of them began to read, marvel at,
and be inflamed by it; and in the reading, to meditate on
embracing such a life, and giving up his worldly employ-
ments to serve Thee. And these were of the body called
"Agents for Public Affairs." Then, suddenly being over-
whelmed with a holy love and a sober sense of shame, in
anger with himself, he cast his eyes upon his friend, exclaim-
ing, "Tell me, I entreat thee, what end we are striving for
by all these labours of ours. What is our aim? What is our
motive in doing service? Can our hopes in court rise higher
than to be ministers of the emperor? And in such a position,
what is there not brittle, and fraught with danger, and by
how many dangers arrive we at greater danger? And when
arrive we thither? But if I desire to become a friend of
God, behold, I am even now made it." Thus spake he, and
in the pangs of the travail of the new life, he turned his eyes
again upon the page and continued reading, and was inwardly
changed where Thou sawest, and his mind was divested of
the world, as soon became evident 5 for as he read, and the
surging of his heart rolled along, he raged awhile, discerned
and resolved on a better course, and now, having become
Thine, he said to his friend, "Now have I broken loose from
those hopes of ours, and am determined to serve God 5 and
CHAP. VII.] HISTORY OF TWO CONVERSIONS 175
this, from this hour, in this place, I enter upon. If thou art
reluctant to imitate me, hinder me not." The other replied
that he would cleave to him, to share in so great a reward
and so great a service. Thus both of them, being now Thine,
were building a tower at the necessary cost, of forsaking all
that they had and following thee. Then Pontitianus, and he
that had walked with him through the other parts of the
garden, came in search of them to the same place, and hav-
ing found them, reminded them to return as the day had de-
clined. But they, making known to him their resolution and
purpose, and how such a resolve had sprung up and become
confirmed in them, entreated them not to molest them, if
they refused to join themselves unto them. But the others,
no whit changed from their former selves, did yet (as he
said) bewail themselves, and piously congratulated them,
recommending themselves to their prayers ; and with their
hearts inclining towards earthly things, returned to the
palace. But the other two, setting their affections upon
heavenly things, remained in the cottage. And both of them
had affianced brides, who, when they heard of this, dedicated
also their virginity unto God.
CHAP. vii. He deplores his wretchedness y that h&uing keen born
thirty -two years> he had, not yet found out the truth.
1 6. Such was the story of Pontitianus. But Thou, O
Lord, whilst he was speaking, didst turn me towards myself,
taking me from behind my back, where I had placed myself
while unwilling to exercise self -scrutiny 5 and Thou didst
set me face to face with myself, that I might behold how
foul I was, and how crooked and sordid, bespotted and ulcer-
ous. And I beheld and loathed myself j and whither to fly
from myself I discovered not. And if I sought to turn my
176 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VIII.
gaze away from myself, he continued his narrative, and
Thou again opposedst me unto myself and thrustedst me
before my own eyes, that I might discover my iniquity, and
hate it. I had known it, but acted as though I knew it not,
winked at it, and forgot it.
17. But now, the more ardently I loved those whose
healthful affections I heard tell of, that they had given up
themselves wholly to Thee to be cured, the more did I abhor
myself when compared with them. For many of my years
(perhaps twelve) had passed away since my nineteenth,
when, on the reading of Cicero's Horten$m$> I was roused to
a desire for wisdom j and still I was delaying to reject mere
worldly happiness, and to devote myself to search out that
whereof not the finding alone, but the bare search, ought to
have been preferred before the treasures and kingdoms of
this world, though already found, and before the pleasures
of the body, though encompassing me at my will. But I,
miserable young man, supremely miserable even in the very
outset of my youth, had entreated chastity of Thee, and said,
"Grant me chastity and continency, but not yet." For I was
afraid lest Thou shouldest hear me soon, and soon deliver
me from the disease of concupiscence, which I desired to
have satisfied rather than extinguished. And I had wan-
dered through perverse ways in a sacrilegious superstition;
not indeed assured thereof, but preferring that to the others,
which I did not seek religiously, but opposed maliciously.
1 8. And I had thought that I delayed from day to day
to reject worldly hopes and follow Thee only, because there
did not appear anything certain whereunto to direct my
course. And now had the day arrived in which I was to be
laid bare to myself, and my conscience was to chide me.
"Where art thou, O my tongue? Thou saidst, verily, that
CHAP. Vm] HE REBUKES HIMSELF 177
for an uncertain truth thou wert not willing to cast off the
baggage of vanity. Behold, now it is certain, and yet doth
that burden still oppress theej whereas they who neither
have so worn themselves out with searching after it, nor yet
have spent ten years and more in thinking thereon, have had
their shoulders unburdened, and gotten wings to fly away."
Thus was I inwardly consumed and mightily confounded
with an horrible shame, while Pontitianus was relating these
things. And he, having finished his story, and the business
he came for, went his way. And unto myself, what said I
not within myself? With what scourges of -rebuke lashed I
not my soul to make it follow me, struggling to go after
Thee! Yet it drew back 5 it refused, and exercised not itself.
All its arguments were exhausted and confuted. There re-
mained a silent trembling 5 and it feared, as it would death,
to be restrained from the flow of that custom whereby it was
wasting away even to death.
CHAP. vm. The conversation with Alyj>ius being ended, he retires
to the garden^ whither his friend follows him.
19. In the midst, then, of this great strife of my inner
dwelling, which I had strongly raised up against my soul in
the chamber of my heart, troubled both in mind and coun-
tenance, I seized upon Alypius, and exclaimed: "What is
wrong with us? What is this? What heardest thou? The
unlearned start up and 'take' heaven, and we, with our learn-
ing, but wanting heart, see where we wallow in flesh and
blood! Because others have preceded us, are we ashamed to
follow, and not rather ashamed at not following?" Some
such words I gave utterance to, and in my excitement flung
myself from him, while he gazed upon me in silent astonish-
ment. For I spoke not in my wonted tone, and my brow,
iy8 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VIII.
cheeks, eyes, colour, tone of voice, all expressed my emotion
more than the words. There was a little garden belonging
to our lodging, of which we had the use, as of the whole
house; for the master, our landlord, did not live there.
Thither had the tempest within my breast hurried me, where
no one might impede the fiery struggle in which I was en-
gaged with myself, until it came to the issue that Thou knew-
est, though I did not. But I was mad that I might be whole,
and dying that I might have life, knowing what evil thing I
was, but not knowing what good thing I was shortly to be-
come. Into the- garden, then, I retired, Alypius following
my steps. For his presence was no bar to my solitude 5 or
how could he desert me so troubled? We sat down at as great
a distance from the house as we could. I was disquieted in
spirit, being most impatient with myself that I entered not
into Thy will and covenant, O my God, which all my bones
cried out unto me to enter, extolling it to the skies. And we
enter not therein by ships, or chariots, or feet, no, nor by
going so far as I had come from the house to that place where
we were sitting. For not to go only, but to enter there, was
naught else but to will to go, but to will it resolutely and
thoroughly; not to stagger and sway about this way and that,
a changeable and half-wounded will, wrestling, with one
part falling as another rose.
20. Finally, in the very fever of my irresolution, I made
many of those motions with my body which men sometimes
desire to do, but cannot, if either they have not the limbs, or
if their limbs be bound with fetters, weakened by disease, or
hindered in any other way. Thus, if I tore my hair, struck
my forehead, or if, entwining my fingers, I clasped my knee,
this I did because I willed it. But I might have willed and
not done it, if the power of motion in my limbs had not re-
CHAP. IX.] FEEBLENESS OF WILL 179
sponded. So many things, then, I did, when to have the will
was not to have the power, and I did not that which both
with an unequalled desire I longed more to do, and which
shortly when I should will I should have the power to do;
because shortly when I should will, I should will thoroughly
For in such things the power was one with the will, and to
will was to do, and yet was it not done; and more readily did
the body obey the slightest wish of the soul in the moving its
limbs at the order of the mind, than the soul obeyed itself
to accomplish in the will alone this its great will.
CHAP. ix. That the mind commandeth the mind, but it willeth
not entirely.
21. Whence is this monstrous thing? And why is it?
Let Thy mercy shine on me, that I may inquire, if so be the
hiding-places of man's punishment, and the darkest contri-
tions of the sons of Adam, may perhaps answer me. Whence
is this monstrous thing? and why is it? The mind Commands
the body, and it obeys forthwith; the mind commands itself,
and is resisted. The mind commands the hand to be moved,
and such readiness is there that the command is scarce to be
distinguished from the obedience. Yet the mind is mind,
and the hand is body. The mind commands the mind to will,
and yet, though it be itself, it obeyeth not. Whence this
monstrous thing? and why is it? I repeat, it commands it-
self to will, and would not give the command unless it willed;
yet is not that done which it commandeth. But it willeth
not entirely; therefore it commandeth not entirely. For so
far forth it commandeth, as it willeth; and so far forth is the
thing commanded not done, as it willeth not. For the will
commandeth that there be a will; not another, but itself.
But it doth not command entirely, therefore that is not which
1 8O CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VIII.
it commandeth. For were it entire, it would not even com-
mand it to be, because it would already be. It is, therefore,
no monstrous thing partly to will, partly to be unwilling, but
an infirmity of the mind, that it doth not wholly rise, sus-
tained by truth, pressed down by custom. And so there are
two wills, because one of them is not entire 5 and the one is
supplied with what the other needs.
CHAP. X. He refutes the opinion of the Mcmich&ans as to two
kinds of minds, one good and the other evil,
22. Let them perish from Thy presence, O God, as "vain
talkers and deceivers" of the soul do perish, who, observing
that there were two wills in deliberating, affirm that there
are two kinds of minds in us, one good, the other evil.
They themselves verily are evil when they hold these evil
opinions 5 and they shall become good when they hold the
truth, and shall consent unto the truth, that Thy apostle may
say unto them, "Ye were sometimes darkness, but now are
ye light in the Lord." But they, desiring to be light, not "in
the Lord," but in themselves, conceiving the nature of the
soul to be the same as that which God is, are made more gross
darkness j for that through a shocking arrogancy they went
farther from Thee, "the true Light, which lighteth every
man that cometh into the world." Take heed what you say,
and blush for shame 5 draw near unto Him and be "light-
ened," and your faces shall not be "ashamed." I, when I
was deliberating upon serving the Lord my "God now, as I
had long purposed, I it was who willed, I who was unwill-
ing. It was I, even I myself. I neither willed entirely nor
was entirely unwilling. Therefore was I at war with myself,
and destroyed by myself. And this*destruction overtook me
against my will, and yet showed not the presence of another
CHAP. X.] CONFLICTING WILLS l8l
mind, but the punishment of mine own. "Now, then, it is
no more I that do it, but sin that dwelleth in me," the pun-
ishment of a more unconfined sin, in that I was a son of
Adam.
23. For if there be as many contrary natures as there are
conflicting wills, there will not now be two natures only, but
many. If any one deliberate whether he should go to their
conventicle, or to the theatre, those men * at once cry out,
"Behold, here are two natures, one good, drawing this way,
another bad, drawing back that wayj for whence else is this
indecision between conflicting wills? " But I reply that both
are bad that which draws to them, and that which draws
back to the theatre. But they believe not that will to be
other than good which draws to them. Supposing, then, one
of us should deliberate, and through the conflict of his two
wills should waver whether he should go to the theatre or
to our church, would not these also waver what to answer?
For either they must confess, which they are not willing to
do, that the will which leads to our church is good, as well as
that of those who have received and are held by the mysteries
of theirs, or they must imagine that there are two evil na-
tures and two evil minds in one man, at war one with the
other 5 and that will not be true which they say, that there is
one good and another bad 5 or they must be converted to the
truth, and no longer deny that where any one deliberates,
there is one soul fluctuating between conflicting wills.
24. Let them no more say, then, when they perceive two
wills to be antagonistic to each other in the same man, that
the contest is between two opposing minds, of two opposing
substances, from two opposing principles, the one good and
* The Mamcheeans*
1 82 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VIII.
the other bad. For Thou, O true God, dost disprove, check,
and convince them; likeas when both wills are bad, one de-
liberates whether he should kill a man by poison, or by the
sword j whether he should take possession of this or that
estate of another's, when he cannot both 3 whether he should
purchase pleasure by prodigality, or retain his money by
covetousness; whether he should go to the circus or the
theatre, if both are open on the same day; or, thirdly,
whether he should rob another man's house, if he have the
opportunity 5 or, fourthly, whether he should commit adul-
tery, if at the same time he have the means of doing so,
all these things concurring in the same point of time, and all
being equally longed for, although impossible to be enacted
at one time. For they rend the mind amid four, or even
(among the vast variety of things men desire) more antago-
nistic wills, nor do they yet affirm that there are so many dif-
ferent substances. Thus also is it in wills which are good.
For I ask them, is it a good thing to have delight in reading
the apostle, or good to have delight in a sober psalm, or good
to discourse on the gospel? To each of these they will an-
swer, "It is good." What, then, if all equally delight us,
and all at the same time? Do not different wills distract the
mind, when a man is deliberating which he should rather
choose? Yet are they all good, and are at variance until one
be fixed upon, whither the whole united will may be borne,
which before was divided into many. Thus, also, when
above eternity delights us, and the pleasure of temporal
good holds us down below, it is the same soul which willeth
not that or this with an entire will, and is therefore torn asun-
der with grievous perplexities, while out of truth it prefers
that, but out of custom forbears not this.
CHAP. XI.] THE THROES OF THE NEW BIRTH 183
CHAP. xi. In what manner the Sfirit struggled with the fleshy that
it might be freed from the bondage of vanity.
25. Thus was I sick and tormented, accusing myself far
more severely than was my wont, tossing and turning me in
my chain till that was utterly broken, whereby I now was but
slightly, but still was held. And Thou, O Lord, pressedst
upon me in my inward parts by a severe mercy, redoubling
the lashes of fear and shame, lest I should again give way,
and that same slender remaining tie not being broken off,
it should recover strength, and enchain me the faster. For I
said mentally, "Lo, let it be done now, let it be done now."
And as I spoke, I all but came to a resolve. I all but did it,
yet I did it not. Yet fell I not back to my old condition, but
took up my position hard by, and drew breath. And I tried
again, and wanted but very little of reaching it, and some-
what less, and then all but touched and grasped it; and yet
came not at it, nor touched, nor grasped it, hesitating to die
unto death, and to live unto life; and the worse, whereto I
had been habituated, prevailed more with me than the better,
which I had not tried. And the very moment in which I
was to become another man, the nearer it approached me, the
greater horror did it strike into me; but it did not strike me
back, nor turn me aside, but kept me in suspense.
26. The very toys of toys, and vanities of vanities, my
old mistresses, still enthralled me; they shook my fleshly
garment, and whispered softly, "Dost thou part with us?
And from that moment shall we no more be with thee for
ever? And from that moment shall not this or that be law-
ful for thee for ever?" And what did they suggest to me in
the words "this or that?" What is it that they suggested,
O my God? Let Thy mercy avert it from the soul of Thy
1 84 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VIII.
servant. What impurities did they suggest! What shame!
And now I far less than half heard them, not openly show-
ing themselves and contradicting me, but muttering, as it
were, behind my back, and furtively plucking me as I was
departing, to make me look back upon them. Yet they did
delay me, so that I hesitated to burst and shake myself free
from them, and to leap over whither I was called, an un-
ruly habit saying to me, "Dost thou think thou canst live
without them? "
27. But now it said this very faintly ; for on that side
towards which I had set my face, and whither I trembled to
go, did the chaste dignity of Continence appear unto me,
cheerful, but not dissolutely gay, honestly alluring me to
come and doubt nothing, and extending her holy hands, full
of a multiplicity of good examples, to receive and embrace
me. There were there so many young men and maidens, a
multitude of youth and every age, grave widows and ancient
virgins, and Continence herself in all, not barren, but a fruit-
ful mother of children of joys, by Thee, O Lord, her Hus-
band. And she smiled on me with an encouraging mockery,
as if to say, "Canst not thou do what these youths and
maidens can? Or can one or other do it of themselves, and
not rather in the Lord their God? The Lord their God
gave me unto them. Why standest thou in thine own
strength, and so standest not? Cast thyself upon Him; fear
not, He will not withdraw that thou shouldest fall 5 cast
thyself upon Him without fear, He will receive thee, and
heal thee." And I blushed beyond measure, for I still
heard the muttering of those toys, and hung in suspense.
And she again seemed to say, "Shut up thine ears against
those unclean members of thine upon the earth, that they
CHAP. XII.] THE VOICE FROM HEAVEN 185
may be mortified. They tell thee of delights, but not as
doth the law of the Lord thy God." This controversy in
my heart was naught but self against self. But Alypius,
sitting close by my side, awaited in silence (24) the result
of my unwonted emotion.
CHAP. xn. Having grayed to God, he fours forth a shower of
tears, and, admonished by a voice, he opens the book and reads
the words in Rom. xiiL 13; by which, being changed in his
whole soul, he discloses the divine favour to his friend and
his mother.
28. But when a profound reflection had, from the secret
depths of my soul, drawn together and heaped up all my
misery before the sight of my heart, there arose a mighty
storm, accompanied by as mighty a shower of tears. Which,
that I might pour forth fully, with its natural expressions, I
stole away from Alypius $ for it suggested itself to me that
solitude was fitter for the business of weeping. So I retired
to such a distance that even his presence could not be op-
pressive to me. Thus was it with me at that time, and he
perceived it 3 for something, I believe, I had spoken, wherein
the sound of my voice appeared choked with weeping, and in
that state had I risen up. He then remained where we had
been sitting, most completely astonished. I flung myself
down, how, I know not, under a certain fig-tree, giving free
course to my tears, and the streams of mine eyes gushed out,
an acceptable sacrifice unto Thee. And, not indeed in these
words, yet to this effect, spake I much unto Thee, "But
Thou, O Lord, how long?" "How long, Lord? Wilt
Thou be angry for ever? Oh, remember not against us for-
mer iniquities 5" for I fek that I was enthralled by them. I
sent up these sorrowful cries, "How long, how long? To-
1 86 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK VIII.
morrow, and to-morrow? Why not now? Why is there
not this hour an end to my uncleanness?"
29. I was saying these things and weeping in the most
bitter contrition of my heart, when, lo, I heard the voice as
of a boy or girl, I know not which, coming from a neighbour-
ing house, chanting, and oft repeating, "Take up and read}
take up and read." Immediately my countenance was
changed, and I began most earnestly to consider whether it
was usual for children in any kind of game to sing such
words 5 nor could I remember ever to have heard the like.
So, restraining the torrent of my tears, I rose up, interpreting
it no other way than as a command to me from Heaven to
open the book, and to read the first chapter I should light
upon. For I had heard of Antony, that, accidentally com-
ing in whilst the gospel was being read, he received the ad-
monition as if what was read were addressed to him, "Go and
sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have
treasure in heaven j and come and follow me." And by such
oracle was he forthwith converted unto Thee. So quickly
I returned to the place where Alypius was sitting 5 for there
had I put down the volume of the apostles, when I rose
thence. I grasped, opened, and in silence read that para-
graph on which my eyes first fell, "Not in rioting and
drunkenness, not in chambering and wantonness, not in strife
and envying; but put ye on the Lord Jesus Christ, and make
not provision for the flesh, to fulfil the lusts thereof." No
further would I read, nor did I need 5 for instantly, as the
sentence ended, by a light, as it were, of security into my
heart, all the gloom of doubt vanished away.
30. Closing the book, then, and putting either my finger
between, or some other mark, I now with a tranquil coun-
tenance made it known to Alypius* And he thus disclosed
CHAP, XIL ] HIS MOTHER'S JOY 187
to me what was wrought in him, which I knew not. He
asked to look at what I had read. I showed him; and he
looked even further than I had read, and I knew not what
followed. This it was, verily, "Him that is weak in the
faith, receive ye 5" which he applied to himself, and discov-
ered to me. By this admonition was he strengthened; and by
a good resolution and purpose, very much in accord with his
character (wherein, for the better, he was always far differ-
ent from me), without any restless delay he joined me.
Thence we go in to my mother. We make it known to her,
she rejoiceth. We relate how it came to pass, she leap-
eth for joy, and triumpheth, and blesseth Thee, who art
"able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or
think;" for she perceived Thee to have given her more for
me than she used to ask by her pitiful and most doleful
groanings. For Thou didst so convert me unto Thyself,
that I sought neither a wife, nor any other of this world's
hopes, standing in that rule of faith in which Thou, so
many years before, had showed me unto her in a vision. And
thou didst turn her grief into a gladness, much more plenti-
ful than she had desired, and much dearer and chaster than
she used to crave, by having grandchildren of my body.
BOOK NINTH
HE SPEAKS OF HIS DESIGN OF FORSAKING THE PROFESSION OF RHETORIC;
OF THE DEATH OF HIS FRIENDS, NEBRIDIUS AND VERECUNDUS, OF
HAVING RECEIVED BAPTISM IN THE THIRTY-THIRD YEAR OF HIS AGE;
AND OF THE VIRTUES AND DEATH OF HIS MOTHER, MONICA.
CHAP. I. He praises God, the Author of safety y and Jesus Christ^
the Redeemer, acknowledging his own wickedness.
I. "/*^\ LORD, truly I am Thy servant 5 I am Thy ser-
V^/ vant, and the son of Thine handmaid: Thou
hast loosed my bonds. I will offer to Thee the sacrifice of
thanksgiving." Let my heart and my tongue praise Thee,
and let all my bones say, "Lord, who is like unto Thee?"
Let them so say, and answer Thou me, and "say unto my
soul, I am Thy salvation." Who am I, and what is my na-
ture? How evil have not my deeds been 5 or if not my
deeds, my words 5 or if not my words, my will? But Thou,
O Lord, art good and merciful, and Thy right hand had re-
spect unto the profoundness of my death and removed from
the bottom of my heart that abyss of corruption. And this
was the result, that I willed not to do what I willed, and
willed to do what Thou wiliest. But where, during all those
years, and out of what deep and secret retreat was my free
will summoned forth in a moment, whereby I gave my neck
to Thy "easy yoke," and my shoulders to Thy "light bur-
den," O Christ Jesus, "my strength and my Redeemer" ?
How sweet did it suddenly become to me to be without the
delights of trifles! And what at one time I feared to lose, it
was now a joy to me to put away. For Thou didst cast them
away from me, Thou true and highest sweetness. Thou
188
CHAP. II.] THE POWER OF THE NEW LIFE 189
didst cast tHem away, and instead of them didst enter in Thy-
self, sweeter than all pleasure, though not to flesh and
blood j brighter than all light, but more veiled than all mys-
teries 5 more exalted than all honour, but not to the exalted
in their own conceits. Now was my soul free from the gnaw-
ing cares of seeking and getting, and of wallowing and ex-
citing the itch of lust. And I babbled unto Thee my bright-
ness, my riches, and my health, the Lord my God.
CHAP. n. As his lungs were affected, he meditates withdrawing
himself from public favour.
2. And it seemed good to me, as before Thee, not tumul-
tuously to snatch away, but gently to withdraw the service of
my tongue from the talker's trade 5 that the young, who
thought not on Thy law, nor on Thy peace, but on menda-
cious follies and forensic strifes, might no longer purchase
at my mouth equipments for their vehemence. And oppor-
tunely there wanted but a few days unto the Vacation of the
Vintage j and I determined to endure them, in order to leave
in the usual way, and, being redeemed by Thee, no more to
return for sale. Our intention then was known to Thee 5
but to men excepting our own friends was it not known.
For we had determined among ourselves not to let it get
abroad to any; although Thou hadst given to us, ascending
from the valley of tears, and singing the song of degrees,
"sharp arrows," and destroying coals, against the "deceitful
tongue," which in giving counsel opposes, and in showing
love consumes, as it is wont to do with its food.
3. Thou hadst penetrated our hearts with Thy charity,
and we carried Thy words fixed, as it were, in our bowels;
and the examples of Thy servant, whom of black Thou hadst
made bright, and of dead, alive, crowded in the bosom of
CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK IX*
our thoughts, burned and consumed our heavy torpor, that
we might not topple into the abyss j and they enkindled us
exceedingly, that every breath of the deceitful tongue of the
gainsayer might inflame us the more, not extinguish us.
Nevertheless, because for Thy name's sake which Thou hast
sanctified throughout the earth, this, our vow and purpose,
might also find commenders, it looked like a vaunting of
oneself not to wait for the vacation, now so near, but to leave
beforehand a public profession, and one, too, under general
observation 5 so that all who looked on this act of mine, and
saw how near was the vintage-time I desired to anticipate,
would talk of me a great deal as if I were trying to appear
to be a great person. And what purpose would it serve that
people should consider and dispute about my intention, and
that our good should be evil spoken of?
4. Furthermore, this very summer, from too great lit-
erary labour, my lungs began to be weak, and with difficulty
to draw deep breaths 5 showing by the pains in my chest that
they were affected, and refusing too loud or prolonged
speaking. This had at first been a trial to me, for it compelled
me almost of necessity to lay down that burden of teaching;
or, if I could be cured and become strong again, at least to
leave it off for a while. But when the full desire of leisure,
that I might see that Thou art the Lord, arose, and was con-
firmed in me, my God, Thou knowest I even began to rejoice
that I had this excuse ready, and that not a feigned one,
which might somewhat temper the offence taken by those
who for their sons' good wished me never to have the free-
dom of sons. Full, therefore, with such joy, I bore it till
that period of time had passed, perhaps it was some twenty
days, yet they were bravely borne; for the cupidity which
was wont to sustain part of this weighty business had de-
CHAP. III.] HE RETIRES TO VERECTJNDUS' VILLA
parted, and I had remained overwhelmed had not its place
been supplied by patience. Some of Thy servants, my
brethren, may perchance say that I sinned in this, in that
having once fully, and from my heart, entered on Thy war-
fare, I permitted myself to sit a single hour in the seat of
falsehood. I will not contend. But hast not Thou, O most
merciful Lord, pardoned and remitted this sin also, with my
others, so horrible and deadly, in the holy water?
CHAP. ill. He retires to the villa of his friend Verecundus, who
was not yet a Christian, and refers to his conversion and death,
as well as that of-Nebridlus.
5. Verecundus was wasted with anxiety at that our happi-
ness, since he, being most firmly held by his bonds, saw that
he would lose our fellowship. For he was not yet a Chris-
tian, though his wife was one of the faithful; and yet hereby,
being more firmly enchained than by anything else, was he
held back from that journey which we had commenced. Nor,
he declared, did he wish to be a Christian on any other terms
than those that were impossible. However, he invited us
most courteously to make use of his country house so long
as we should stay there. Thou, O Lord, wilt "recompense"
him for this "at the resurrection of the just, 3 ' seeing that
Thou hast already given him "the lot of the righteous."
For although, when we were absent at Rome, he, being over-
taken with bodily sickness, and therein being made a Chris-
tian, and one of the faithful, departed this life, yet hadst
Thou mercy on him, and not on him only, but on us alsoj
lest, thinking on the exceeding kindness of our friend to us,
and unable to count him in Thy flock, we should be tortured
with intolerable grief. Thanks be unto Thee, our God, we
are Thine. Thy exhortations, consolations, and faithful
192 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK. IX,
promises assure us that Thou now repayest Verecundus for
that country house at Cassiacum, where from the fever of
the world we found rest in Thee, with the perpetual fresh-
ness of Thy Paradise, in that Thou hast forgiven him his
earthly sins, in that mountain flowing with milk, that fruit-
ful mountain, Thine own.
6. He then was at that time full of grief ; but Nebridius
was joyous. Although he also, not being yet a Christian,
had fallen into the pit of that most pernicious error of be-
lieving Thy Son to be a phantasm, yet, coming out thence,
he held the same belief that we did 5 not as yet initiated in
any of the sacraments of Thy Church, but a most earnest in-
quirer after truth. Whom, not long after our conversion
and regeneration by Thy baptism, he being also a faithful
member of the Catholic Church, and serving Thee in per-
fect chastity and continency amongst his own people in
Africa, when his whole household had been brought to
Christianity through him, didst Thou release from the flesh j
and now he lives in Abraham's bosom. Whatever that may
be which is signified by that bosom, there lives my Nebridius,
my sweet friend, Thy son, O Lord, adopted of a freedman;
there he liveth. For what other place could there be for
such a soul? There liveth he, concerning which he used to
ask me much, me, an inexperienced, feeble one. Now he
puts not his ear unto my mouth, but his spiritual mouth unto
Thy fountain, and drinketh as much as he is able, wisdom
according to his desire, happy without end. Nor do I be-
lieve that he is so inebriated with it as to forget me, seeing
Thou, O Lord, whom he drinketh, art mindful of us. Thus,
then, were we comforting the sorrowing Verecundus (our
friendship being untouched) concerning our conversion, and
exhorting him to a faith according to his condition, I mean,
CHAP. IV.] HE GIVES HIS ATTENTION TO LITERATURE 193
his married state. And tarrying for Nebridius to follow us,
which, being so near, he was just about to do, when, behold,
those days passed over at last 5 for long and many they
seemed, on account of my love of easeful liberty, that I might
sing unto Thee from my very marrow. My heart said unto
Thee, I have sought Thy facej "Thy face, Lord, will I
seek."
CHAP. rv. In the country he gives his attention to literature 1 , and
explains the fourth Psalm in connection with the haffly con-
version of Aly^lus. Re Is troubled with toothache.
7. And the day arrived on which, in very deed, I was to
be released from the Professorship of Rhetoric, from which
in intention I had been already released. And done it was;
and Thou didst deliver my tongue whence Thou hadst al-
ready delivered my heart; and full of joy I blessed Thee for
it, and retired with all mine to the villa. What I accom-
plished there in writing, which was now wholly devoted to
Thy service, though still, in this pause as it were, panting
from the school of pride, my books testify those in which I
disputed with my friends, and those with myself alone be-
fore Thee; and what with the absent Nebridius, my letters
testify. And when can I find time to recount all Thy great
benefits which Thou bestowedest upon us at that time, espe-
cially as I am hasting on to still greater mercies? For my
memory calls upon me, and pleasant it is to me, O Lord,
to confess unto Thee, by what inward goads Thou didst sub-
due me, and how Thou didst make me low, bringing down
the mountains and hills of my imaginations, and didst
straighten my crookedness, and smooth my rough ways; and
by what means Thou also didst subdue that brother of my
heart, Alypius, unto the name of Thy only-begotten, our
194 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK IX.
Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, which he at first refused to
have inserted in our writings. For he rather desired that
they should savour of the "cedars" of the schools, which the
Lord hath now broken down, than of the wholesome herbs
of the Church, hostile to serpents.
8. What utterances sent I up unto Thee, my God, when
I read the Psalms of David, those faithful songs and sounds
of devotion which exclude all swelling of spirit, when new
to Thy true love, at rest in the villa with Alypius, a catechu-
men like myself, my mother cleaving unto us, in woman's
garb truly, but with a man's faith, with the peacefulness of
age, full of motherly love and Christian piety! What utter-
ances used I to send up unto Thee in those Psalms, and how
was I inflamed towards Thee by them, and burned to re-
hearse them, if it were possible, throughout the whole world,
against the pride of the human race! And yet they are sung
throughout the whole world, and none can hide himself
from Thy heat. With what vehement and bitter sorrow was
I indignant at the Manichasans; whom yet again I pitied, for
that they were ignorant of those sacraments, those medica-
ments, and were mad against the antidote which might have
made them sane! I wished that they had been somewhere
near me then, and, without my being aware of their presence,
could have beheld my face, and heard my words, when I
read the fourth Psalm in that time of my leisure, how that
psalm wrought upon me. When I called upon Thee, Thou
didst hear me, O God of my righteousness 3 Thou hast en-
larged me when I was in distress 5 have mercy upon me, and
hear my prayer. Oh that they might have heard what I ut-
tered on these words, without my knowing whether they
heard or no, lest they should think that I spake it because of
them! For, of a truth, neither should I have said the same
CHAP. IV.] HE IS STIRRED BY THE PSALMS 195
things, nor in the way I said them, if I had perceived that I
was heard and seen by them; and had I spoken them, they
Would not so have received them as when I spake by and for
myself before Thee, out of the private feelings of my souL
9. I alternately quaked with fear, and warmed with hope,
and with rejoicing in Thy mercy, O Father. And all these
passed forth, both by mine eyes and voice, when Thy good
Spirit, turning unto us, said, O ye sons of men, how long will
ye be slow of heart? "How long will ye love vanity, and
seek after leasing?" For I had loved vanity, and sought
after leasing. And Thou, O Lord, hadst already magnified
Thy Holy One, raising Him from the dead, and setting
Him at Thy right hand, whence from on high He should
send His promise, the Paraclete, "the Spirit of Truth." And
He had already sent Him, but I knew it not; He had sent
Him, because He was now magnified, rising again from the
dead, and ascending into heaven. For till then "the Holy
Ghost was not yet given, because that Jesus was not yet glori-
fied." And the prophet cries out, How long will ye be slow
of heart? How long will ye love vanity, and seek after
leasing? Know this, that the Lord hath magnified His Holy
One. He cries out, "How long?" He cries out, "Know
this," and I, so long ignorant, "loved vanity, and sought
after leasing." And therefore I heard and trembled, be-
cause these words were spoken unto such as I remembered
that I myself had been. For in those phantasms which I
once held for truths was there "vanity" and "leasing." And
I spake many things loudly and earnestly, in the sorrow of
my remembrance, which, would that they who yet "love
vanity and seek after leasing" had heard! They would
perchance have been troubled, and have vomited it forth, and
Thou wouldest hear them when they cried unto Thee; for
196 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK IX.
by a true death in the flesh He died for us, who now maketh
intercession for us with Thee.
10. I read further, "Be ye angry, and sin not." And
how was I moved, O my God, who had now learned to "be
angry" with myself for the things past, so that in the future
I might not sin! Yea, to be justly angry 5 for that it was not
another nature of the race of darkness which sinned for me,
as they affirm it to be who are not angry with themselves, and
who treasure up to themselves wrath against the day of
wrath, and of the revelation of Thy righteous judgment.
Nor were my good things now without, nor were they sought
after with eyes of flesh in that sun 3 for they that would have
joy from without easily sink into oblivion, and are wasted
upon those things which are seen and temporal, and in their
starving thoughts do lick their very shadows. Oh, if only
they were wearied out with their fasting, and said, "Who
will show us any good?" And we would answer, and they
hear, O Lord, The light of Thy countenance is lifted up
upon us. For we are not that Light, which lighteth every
man, but we are enlightened by Thee, that we, who were
sometimes darkness, may be light in Thee. Oh that they
could behold the internal Eternal, which having tasted I
gnashed my teeth that I could not show It to them, while
they brought me their heart in their eyes, roaming abroad
from Thee, and said, "Who will show us any good?" But
there, where I was angry with myself in my chamber, where
I was inwardly pricked, where I had offered my "sacrifice,"
slaying my old man, and beginning the resolution of a new
life, putting my trust in Thee, there hadst Thou begun to
grow sweet unto me, and to "put gladness in my heart." And
I cried out as I read this outwardly, and felt it inwardly.
Nor would I be increased with worldly goods, wasting time
CHAP. IV.] HE PRAYS FOR HIS PAIN TO CEASE 197
and being wasted by time; whereas I possessed in Thy eter-
nal simplicity other corn, and wine, and oil.
11. And with a loud cry from my heart, I called out in
the following verse, "Oh, in peace!" and "the self-same f"
Oh, what said he, "I will lay me down and sleep!" For
who shall hinder us, when "shall be brought to pass the say-
ing that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory?" And
Thou art in the highest degree "the self-same," who chang-
est not 5 and in Thee is the rest which forgetteth all labour,
for there is no other beside Thee, nor ought we to seek after
those many other things which are not what Thou art 5 but
Thou, Lord, only makest me to dwell in hope. These things
I read, and was inflamed , but discovered not what to do with
those deaf and dead, of whom I had been a pestilent mem-
ber, a bitter and a blind declaimer against the writings be-
honied with the honey of heaven and luminous with Thine
own light 5 and I was consumed on account of the enemies of
this Scripture.
12. When shall I call to mind all that took place in those
holidays? Yet neither have I forgotten, nor will I be silent
about the severity of Thy scourge, and the amazing quick-
ness of Thy mercy. Thou didst at that time torture me with
toothache j and when it had become so exceeding great that
I was not able to speak, it came into my heart to urge all my
friends who were present to pray for me to Thee, the God
of all manner of health. And I wrote it down on wax, and
gave it to them to read. Presently, as with submissive desire
we bowed our knees, that pain departed. But what pain?
Or how did it depart? I confess to being much afraid, my
Lord my God, seeing that from my earliest years I had not
experienced such pain. And Thy purposes were profoundly
impressed upon me 5 and, rejoicing in faith, I praised Thy
198 CONFESSIONS OF ST, AUGUSTINE [BOOK. IK.
name. And that faith suffered me not to be at rest in regard
to my past sins, which were not yet forgiven me by Thy bap-
tism,
CHAP, y. At the recommendation of Ambrose, he reads the
frofhecies of Isaiah) but does not understand them.
13. The vintage vacation being ended, I gave the citizens
of Milan notice that they might provide their scholars with
another seller of words 5 because both of my election to serve
Thee, and my inability, by reason of the difficulty of breath-
ing and the pain in my chest, to continue the Professorship.
And by letters I notified to Thy bishop, the holy man Am-
brose, my former errors and present resolutions, with a view
to his advising me which of Thy books it was best for me to
read, so that I might be readier and fitter for the reception of
such great grace. He recommended Isaiah the Prophet j I be-
lieve, because he foreshows more clearly than others the
gospel, and the calling of the Gentiles. But I, not under-
standing the first portion of the book, and imagining the
whole to be like it, laid it aside, intending to take it up here-
after, when better practised in our Lord's words.
CHAP. vi. He ts baptized at Milan with Alypius and his son
Adeodatus. The Book <c De Magistro"
14. Thence, when the time had arrived at which I was
to give in my name, having left the country, we returned to
Milan. Alypius also was pleased to be born again with me in
Thee, being now clothed with the humility appropriate to
Thy sacraments, and being so brave a tamer of the body, as
with unusual fortitude to tread the frozen soil of Italy with
his naked feet. We took into our company the boy Adeoda-
tus, born of me carnally, of my sin. Well hadst Thou made
CHAP. VII.] HIS BAPTISM 199
him. He was barely fifteen years, yet in wit excelled many
grave and learned men. I confess unto Thee Thy gifts, O
Lord my God, creator of all, and of exceeding power to re-
form our deformities; for of me was there naught in that
boy but the sin. For that we fostered him in Thy discipline,
Thou inspiredst us, none other, Thy gifts I confess unto
Thee. There is a book of ours, which is entitled The Master.
It is a dialogue between him and me. Thou knowest that all
things there put into the mouth of the person in argument
with me were his thoughts in his sixteenth year. Many
others more wonderful did I find in him. That talent was
a source of awe to me. And who but Thou could be the
worker of such marvels? Quickly didst Thou remove his
life from the earth; and now I recall him to mind with a
sense of security, in that I fear nothing for his childhood or
youth, or for his whole self. We took him coeval with us in
Thy grace, to be educated in Thy discipline; and we were
baptized, and solicitude about our past life left us. Nor was
I satiated in those days with the wondrous sweetness of con-
sidering the depth of Thy counsels concerning the salvation
of the human race. How greatly did I weep in Thy hymns
and canticles, deeply moved by the voices of Thy sweet-
speaking Church! The voices flowed into mine ears, and
the truth was poured forth into my heart, whence the agita-
tion of my piety overflowed, and my tears ran over, and
blessed was I therein.
CHAP. vii. Of the Church hymns instituted at Milan; of the
Ambrosian persecution raised* by Justina; and of the discovery
of the bodies of two martyrs*
15. Not long had the Church of Milan begun to employ
this kind of consolation and exhortation, the brethren sing-
2OO CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK IX.
ing together with great earnestness of voice and heart. For
it was about a year, or not much more, since Justina, the
mother of the boy-Emperor Valentinian, persecuted Thy
servant Ambrose in the interest of her heresy, to which she
had been seduced by the Arians. The pious people kept
guard in the church, prepared to die with their bishop, Thy
servant. There my mother, Thy handmaid, bearing a chief
part of those cares and watchings, lived in prayer. We, still
unmelted by the heat of Thy Spirit, were yet moved by the
astonished and disturbed city. At this time it was instituted
that, after the manner of the Eastern Church, hymns and
psalms should be sung, lest the people should pine away
in the tediousness of sorrow j which custom, retained from
then till now, is imitated by many, yea, by almost all of Thy
congregations throughout the rest of the world.
1 6. Then didst Thou by a vision make known to Thy re-
nowned bishop the spot where lay the bodies of Gervasius
and Protasius, the martyrs (whom Thou hadst in Thy secret
storehouse preserved uncorrupted for so many years),
whence Thou mightest at the fitting time produce them to re-
press the feminine but royal fury. For when they were re-
vealed and dug up and with due honour transferred to the
Ambrosian Basilica, not only they who were troubled with
unclean spirits (the devils confessing themselves) were
healed, but a certain man also, who had been blind many
years, a well-known citizen of that city, having asked and
been told the reason of the people's tumultuous joy, rushed
forth, asking his guide to lead him thither. Arrived there,
he begged to be permitted to touch with his handkerchief
the bier of Thy Saints, whose death is precious in Thy sight.
When he had done this, and put it to his eyes, they were
forthwith opened. Thence did the fame spread^ thence did
CHAP. VIII.] THE CONVERSION OF EVODIUS 2OI
Thy praises burn, shine 5 thence was the mind of that
enemy, though not yet enlarged to the wholeness of believ-
ing, restrained from the fury of persecuting. Thanks be to
Thee, O my God. Whence and whither hast Thou thus led
my remembrance, that I should confess these things also unto
Thee, great, though I, forgetful, had passed them over?
And yet then, when the "savour" of Thy "ointments" was
so fragrant, did we not "run after Thee." And so I did
the more abundantly weep at the singing of Thy hymns,
formerly panting for Thee, and at last breathing in Thee,
as far as the air can play in this house of grass.
CHAP. vni. Of the conversion of Evodius, and the death of his
mother when returning with him to Africa; and whose edu-*
cotton he tenderly relates.
17. Thou, who makest men to dwell of one mind in a
house, didst associate with us Evodius also, a young man of
our city, who, when serving as an agent for Public Affairs,
was converted unto Thee and baptized prior to us 5 and re-
linquishing his secular service, prepared himself for Thine.
We were together, and together were we about to dwell with
a holy purpose. We sought for some place where we might
be most useful in our service to Thee, and were going back
together to Africa. And when we were at the Tiberine Ostia
my mother died. Much I omit, having much to hasten.
Receive my confessions and thanksgivings, O my God, for
innumerable things concerning which I am silent. But I
will not omit aught that my soul has brought forth as to that
Thy handmaid who brought me forth, in her flesh, that I
might be born to this temporal light, and in her heart, that
I might be born to life eternal. I will speak not of her gifts,
but Thine in her j for she neither made herself nor educated
2O2 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK IX
herself. Thou createdst her, nor did her father nor her
mother know what a being was to proceed from them. And
it was the rod of Thy Christ, the discipline of Thine only
Son, that trained her in Thy fear, in the house of one of
Thy faithful ones, who was a sound member of Thy Church.
Yet this good discipline did she not so much attribute to the
diligence of her mother, as that of a certain decrepit maid-
servant, who had carried about her father when an infant, as
little ones are wont to be carried on the backs of elder girls.
For which reason, and on account of her extreme age and
very good character, was she much respected by the heads of
that Christian house. Whence also was committed to her
the care of her master's daughters, which she with diligence
performed, and was earnest in restraining them when neces-
sary, with a holy severity, and instructing them with a sober
sagacity. For, excepting at the hours in which they were very
temperately fed at their parents' table, she used not to per-
mit them, though parched with thirst, to drink even water 5
thereby taking precautions against an evil custom, and adding
the wholesome advice, "You drink water only because you
have not control of wine 5 but when you have come to be
married, and made mistresses of storeroom and cellar, you
will despise water, but the habit of drinking will remain."
By this method of instruction, and power of command, she
restrained the longing of their tender age, and regulated the
very thirst of the girls to such a becoming limit, as that what
was not seemly they did not long for,
1 8. And yet as Thine handmaid related to me, her son
there had stolen upon her a love of wine. For when she,
as being a sober maiden, was as usual bidden by her parents
to draw wine from the cask, the vessel being held under the
opening, before she poured the wine into the bottle, she
CHAP, viii.] MONICA'S YOUTH 203
would wet the tips of her lips with a little, for more than
that her inclination refused. For this she did not from any
craving for drink, but out of the overflowing buoyancy of
her time of life, which bubbles up with sportiveness, and is,
in youthful spirits, wont to be repressed by the gravity of
elders. And so unto that little, adding daily little (for "he
that contemneth small things shall fall by little and lit-
tle"), (25) she contracted such a habit as to drink off eagerly
her little cup nearly full of wine. Where, then, was the
sagacious old woman with her earnest restraint? Could any-
thing prevail against a secret disease if Thy medicine, O
Lord, did not watch over us? Father, mother, and nurturers
absent, Thou present, who hast created, who callest, who also
by those who are set over us workest some good for the
salvation of our souls, what didst Thou at that time, O my
God? How didst Thou heal her? How didst Thou make
her whole? Didst Thou not out of another woman's soul
evoke a hard and bitter insult, as a surgeon's knife from
Thy secret store, and with one thrust remove all that putre-
faction? For the maid-servant who used to accompany her
to the cellar, falling out, as it happens, with her little mis-
tress, when she was alone with her, cast in her teeth this
vice, with very bitter insult, calling her a "wine-bibber."
Stung by this taunt, she perceived her foulness, and im-
mediately condemned and renounced it. Even as friends by
their flattery pervert, so do enemies by their taunts often
correct us. Yet Thou renderest not unto them what Thou
dost by them, but what was proposed by them. For she,
being angry, desired to irritate her young mistress, not to
cure her j and did it in secret, either because the time and
place of the dispute found them thus, or perhaps lest she
herself should be exposed to danger for disclosing it so late.
2Q4 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK IX.
But Thou, Lord, Governor of heavenly and earthly things,
who convertest to Thy purposes the deepest torrents, and
disposest the turbulent current of the ages, healest one soul
by the unsoundness of another 5 lest any man, when he re-
marks this, should attribute it unto his own power if another,
whom he wishes to be reformed, is so through a word of his.
CHAP. IX. He describes the praiseworthy habits of his mother; her
kindness towards her husband and her sons.
19. Being thus modestly and soberly trained, and rather,
made subject by Thee to her parents, than by her parents to
Thee, when she had arrived at a marriageable age, she was
given to a husband whom she served as her lord. And she
busied herself to gain him to Thee, preaching Thee unto him
by her behaviour 5 by which Thou madest her fair, and
reverently amiable, and admirable unto her husband. For
she so bore the wronging of her bed as never to have any
dissension with her husband on account of it. For she waited
for Thy mercy upon him, that by believing in Thee he might
become chaste. And besides this, as he was earnest in friend-
ship, so was he violent in anger 5 but she had learned that
an angry husband should not be resisted, neither in deed,
nor even in word. But so soon as he was grown calm and
tranquil, and she saw a fitting moment, she would give him
a reason for her conduct, should he have been excited with-
out cause. In short, while many matrons, whose husbands
were more gentle, carried the marks of blows on their dis-
honoured faces, and would in private conversation blame
the lives of their husbands, she would blame their tongues,
monishing them gravely, as if in jest: "That from the hour
they heard what are called the matrimonial tablets read to
them, they should think of them as instruments whereby
CHAP. IX.] MONICA AS A WIFE 205
they were made servants 5 so, being always mindful of their
condition, they ought not to set themselves in opposition to
their lords." And when they, knowing what a furious hus-
band she endured, marvelled that it had never been reported,
nor appeared by any indication, that Patricius had beaten his
wife, or that there had been any domestic strife between
them, even for a day, and asked her in confidence the rea-
son of this, she taught them her rule, which I have men-
tioned above. They who observed it experienced the wis-
dom of it, and rejoiced 5 those who observed it not were
kept in subjection, and suffered.
20. Her mother-in-law, also, being at first prejudiced
against her by the whisperings of evil-disposed servants, she
so conquered by submission, persevering in it with patience
and meekness, that she voluntarily disclosed to her son the
tongues of the meddling servants, whereby the domestic
peace between herself and her daughter-in-law had been
agitated, begging him to punish them for it. When, there-
fore, he had in conformity with his mother's wish, and
with a view to the discipline of his family, and to ensure
the future harmony of its members corrected with stripes
those discovered, according to the will of her who had dis-
covered them, she promised a similar reward to any who y
to please her, should say anything evil to her of her daugh-
ter-in-law. And, none now daring to do so, they lived to-
gether with a wonderful sweetness of mutual good-will.
21. This great gift Thou bestowedst also, my God, my
mercy, upon that good handmaid of Thine, out of whose
womb Thou createdst me, even that, whenever she could,
she showed herself such a peacemaker between any differing
and discordant spirits, that when she had heard on both sides
most bitter things, such as swelling and undigested discord
CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK IX,
is wont to give vent to, when the crudities of enmities are
breathed out in bitter speeches to a present friend against
an absent enemy, she would disclose nothing about the one
unto the other, save what might avail to their reconcilement,
A small good this might seem to me, did I not know to my
sorrow countless persons, who, through some horrible and
far-spreading infection of sin, not only disclose to enemies
mutually enraged the things said in passion against each
other, but add some things that were never spoken at all 5
whereas, to a generous man, it ought to seem a small thing
not to incite or increase the enmities of men by ill-speaking,
unless he endeavour likewise by kind words to extinguish
them. Such a one was she, Thou, her most intimate In-
structor, teaching her in the school of her heart.
22. Finally, her own husband, now towards the end of
his earthly existence, did she gain over unto Thee 5 and she
had not to complain of that in him, as one of the faithful,
which, before he became so, she had endured. She was also
the servant of Thy servants. Whosoever of them knew her,
did in her much magnify, honour, and love Thee 5 for that
through the testimony of the fruits of a holy conversation,
they perceived Thee to be present in her heart. For she had
"been the wife of one man," had requited her parents, had
guided her house piously, was "well-reported of for good
works/ 7 had "brought up children," as often travailing in
birth of them as she saw them swerving from Thee. Lastly,
to all of us, O Lord (since of Thy favour Thou sufferest
Thy servants to speak), who, before her sleeping in Thee,
lived associated together, having received the grace of Thy
baptism, did she devote care such as she might if she had
been mother of us allj served us as if she had been child
of all.
CHAP. X.] A FORETASTE OF FUTURE GLORY 2QJ
CHAP. x. A conversation he had with his mother concerning the
kingdom of heaven*
23. As the day now approached on which she was ta
depart this life (which day Thou knewest, we did not),
it fell out Thou, as I believe, by Thy secret ways arrang-
ing it that she and I stood alone, leaning in a certain win-
dow, from which the garden of the house we occupied at
Ostia could be seen 5 at which place, removed from the
crowd, we were resting ourselves for the voyage, after the
fatigues of a long journey. We then were conversing alone
very pleasantly 5 and, "forgetting those things which are
behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are be-
fore," we were seeking between ourselves in the presence of
the Truth, which Thou art, of what nature the eternal life
of the saints would be, which eye hath not seen, nor ear
heard, neither hath entered into the heart of man. But yet
we opened wide the mouth of our heart, after those supernal
streams of Thy fountain, "the fountain of life," which is
"with Thee 5" that being sprinkled with it according to our
capacity, we might in some measure weigh so high a mystery.
24, And when our conversation had arrived at that point,
that the very highest pleasure of the carnal senses, and that
in the very brightest material light, seemed by reason of the
sweetness of that life not only not worthy of comparison,
but not even of mention, we, lifting ourselves with a more
ardent affection towards "the Self -same," did gradually pass
through all corporeal things, and even the heaven itself,
whence sun, and moon, and stars shine upon the earth; yea,
we soared higher yet by inward musing, and discoursing, and
admiring Thy works j and we came to our own minds, and
went beyond them, that we might advance as high as that
2OS CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK IX.
region of unfailing plenty, where Thou feedest Israel for
ever with the food of truth, and where life is that Wisdom
by whom all these things are made, both which have been,
and which are to come; and she is not made, but is as she
hath been, and so shall ever be 5 yea, rather, to "have been,"
and "to be hereafter," are not in her, but only "to be," see-
ing she is eternal, for to "have been" and "to be hereafter"
are not eternal. And while we were thus speaking, and
straining after her, we slightly touched her with the whole
effort of our heart; and we sighed, and there left bound
"the first-fruits of the Spirit 5" and returned to the noise
of our own mouth, where the word uttered has both begin-
ning and end. And what is like unto Thy Word, our Lord,
who remaineth in Himself without becoming old, and
"maketh all things new"?
25. We were saying, then, If to any man the tumult of
the flesh were silenced, silenced the phantasies of earth,
waters, and air, silenced, too, the poles ; yea, the very soul
be silenced to herself, and go beyond herself by not thinking
of herself, silenced fancies and imaginary revelations, every
tongue, and every sign, and whatsoever exists by passing
away, since, if any could hearken, all these say, "We created
not ourselves, but were created by Him who abideth for
ever:" If, having uttered this, they now should be silenced,
having only quickened our ears to Him who created them,
and He alone speak not by them, but by Himself, that we
may hear His word, not by fleshly tongue, nor angelic voice,
nor sound of thunder, nor the obscurity of a similitude, but
might hear Him Him whom in these we love without
these, likeas we two now strained ourselves, and with rapid
thought touched on that Eternal Wisdom which remaineth
over all. If this could be sustained, and other visions of a
CHAP. XI.] PARTING WORDS 2O9
far different kind be withdrawn, and this one ravish, and
absorb, and envelope its beholder amid these inward joys, so
that his life might be eternally like that one moment of
knowledge which we now sighed after, were not this "Enter
thou into the joy of Thy Lord"? And when shall that be?
When we shall all rise again; but all shall not be changed.
26. Such things was I saying; and if not after this man-
ner, and in these words, yet, Lord, Thou knowest, that in
that day when we were talking thus, this world with all its
delights grew contemptible to us, even While we spake.
Then said my mother, "Son, for myself, I have no longer
any pleasure in aught in this life. What I want here fur-
ther, and why I am here, I know not, now that my hopes
in this world are satisfied. There was indeed one thing for
which I wished to tarry a little in this life, and that was that
I might see thee a Catholic Christian before I died. My
God has exceeded this abundantly, so that I see thee despis-
ing all earthly felicity, made His servant, what do I here?"
CHAP. xi. His mother, attacked by fever, dies at Ostia*
27. What reply I made unto her to these things I do
not well remember. However, scarcely five days after, or
not much more, she was prostrated by fever; and while she
was sick, she one day sank into a swoon, and was for a short
time unconscious of visible things. We hurried up to her;
but she soon regained her senses, and gazing on me and my
brother as we stood by her, she said to us inquiringly,
"Where was I?" Then looking intently at us stupefied with
grief, "Here," saith she, "shall you bury your mother."
I was silent, and refrained from weeping; but my brother
said something, wishing her, as the happier lot, to die in
her own country and not abroad. She, when she heard this,
210 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK IX,
with anxious countenance arrested him with her eye, as
savouring of such things, and then gazing at me, "Behold,"
saith she, "what he saith 5" and soon after to us both she saith,
"Lay this body anywhere, let not the care for it trouble you
at all. This only I ask, that you will remember me at the
Lord's altar, wherever you be." And when she had given
forth this opinion in such words as she could, she was silent,
being in pain with her increasing sickness.
28. But, as I reflected on Thy gifts, O thou invisible God,
which Thou instillest into the hearts of Thy faithful ones,
whence such marvellous fruits do spring, I did rejoice and
give thanks unto Thee, calling to mind what I knew before,
how she had ever burned with anxiety respecting her burial-
place, which she had provided and prepared for herself by
the body of her husband. For as they had lived very peace-
fully together, her desire had also been (so little is the
human mind capable of grasping things divine) that this
should be added to that happiness, and be talked of among
men, that after her wandering beyond the sea, it had been
granted her that they both, so united on earth, should lie
in the same grave. But when this uselessness had, through
the bounty of Thy goodness, begun to be no longer in her
heart, I knew not, and I was full of joy admiring what she
had thus disclosed to me; though indeed in that our con-
versation in the window also, when she said, "What do I
here any longer?" she appeared not to desire to die in her
own country. I heard afterwards, too, that at the time we
were at Ostia, with a maternal confidence she one day, when
I was absent, was speaking with certain of my friends on
the contemning of this life, and the blessing of death ; and
when they amazed at the courage which Thou hadst given
to her, a woman asked her whether she did not dread leav-
CHAP. XII.] HE MOURNS HIS DEAD MOTHER
ing her body at such a distance from her own city, she re-
plied, "Nothing is far to God 5 nor need I fear lest He
should be ignorant at the end of the world of the place
whence He is to raise me up." On the ninth day, then, of
her sickness, the fifty-sixth year of her age, and the thirty-
third of mine, was that religious and devout soul set free
from the body.
CHAP. xn. How he mourned his dead mother.
29. I closed her eyes 3 and there flowed a great sadness
into my heart, and it was passing into tears, when mine eyes
at the same time, by the violent control of my mind, sucked
back the fountain dry, and woe was me in such a struggle!
But, as soon as she breathed her last, the boy Adeodatus
burst out into wailing, but, being checked by us all, he be-
came quiet. In like manner also my own childish feeling,
which was, through the youthful voice of my heart, finding
escape in tears, was restrained and silenced. For we did not
consider it fitting to celebrate that funeral with tearful plaints
and groanings; for on such wise are they who die unhappy,
or are altogether dead, wont to be mourned. But she neither
died unhappy, nor did she altogether die. For of this were
we assured by the witness of her good conversation, her
"faith unfeigned," and other sufficient grounds.
30. What, then, was that which did grievously pain me
within, but the newly-made wound, from having that most
sweet and dear habit of living together suddenly broken off?
I was full of joy indeed in her testimony, when, in that her
last illness, flattering my dutifulness, she called me "kind,"
and recalled, with great affection of love, that she had never
heard any harsh or reproachful sound come out of my mouth
against her. But yet, O my God, who madest us, how can the
212 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK IX.
honour which I paid to her be compared with her slavery
for me? As, then, I was left destitute of so great comfort
in her, my soul was stricken, and that life torn apart as it
were, which, of hers and mine together, had been made but
one.
31. The boy then being restrained from weeping,
Evodius took up the Psalter, and began to sing the whole
house responding the Psalm, "I will sing of mercy and
judgment: unto Thee, O Lord. 55 But when they heard what
we were doing, many brethren and religious women came
together ; and whilst they whose office it was were, according
to custom, making ready for the funeral, I, in a part of the
house where I conveniently could, together with those who
thought that I ought not to be left alone, discoursed on
what was suited to the occasion 5 and by this alleviation of
truth mitigated the anguish known unto Thee they being
unconscious of it, listened intently, and thought me to be
devoid of any sense of sorrow. But in Thine ears, where
none of them heard, did I blame the softness of my feelings,
and restrained the flow of my grief, which yielded a little
unto me 3 but the paroxysm returned again, though not so as
to burst forth into tears, nor to a change of countenance,
though I knew what I repressed in my heart. And as I
was exceedingly annoyed that these human things had such
power over me, which in the due order and destiny of our
natural condition must of necessity come to pass, with a new
sorrow I sorrowed for my sorrow, and was wasted by a
twofold sadness.
32. So, when the body was carried forth, we both went
and returned without tears. For neither in those prayers
which we poured forth unto Thee when the sacrifice of our
redemption was offered up unto Thee for her, the dead
CHAP. XII.] HIS GRIEF IS MITIGATED 213
body being now placed by the side of the grave, as the cus-
tom there is, prior to its being laid therein, neither in their
prayers did I shed tears 5 yet was I most grievously sad in
secret all the day, and with a troubled mind entreated Thee,
as I was able, to heal my sorrow, but Thou didst not 5 fixing,
I believe, in my memory by this one lesson the power of the
bonds of all habit, even upon a mind which now feeds not
upon a fallacious word. It appeared to me also a good
thing to go and bathe, I having heard that the bath
\balneum\ took its name from the Greek [3aAaviov 3 because
it drives trouble from the mind. Lo, this also I confess
unto Thy mercy, "Father of the fatherless," that I bathed,
and felt the same as before I had done so. For the bitter-
ness of my grief exuded not from my heart. Then I slept,
and on awaking found my grief not a little mitigated 5 and
as I lay alone upon my bed, there came into my mind those
true verses of Thy Ambrose, for Thou art
"Deus creator omnium,
Polique rector, vestiens
Diem decoro lumine,
Noctem sopora gratia;
Artus solutes ut quies
Reddat laboris usui,
Mentesque fessas allevet,
Luctusque solvat anxios." *
* Rendered as follows in a translation of the first ten books of the Confes-
sions, described on the title-page as "Printed by J. C., for John Crook, and axe
to be sold at the sign of the 'Ship,' in St. Paul's Churchyard. 1660";
"O God, the world's great Architect,
Who dost heaven's rowling orbs direct;
Cloathing the day with beauteous light,
And with sweet slumbers silent night;
When wearied limbs new vigour gain
From rest, new labours to sustain ;
When hearts oppressed do meet relief,
And anxious minds forget their grief."
CONFESSIONS OF ST, AUGUSTINE [BOOK I3C.
33. And then little by little did I bring back my former
thoughts of Thine handmaid, her devout conversation to-
wards Thee, her holy tenderness and attentiveness towards
us, which was suddenly taken away from me 5 and it was
pleasant to me to weep in Thy sight, for her and for me,
concerning her and concerning myself. And I set free the
tears which before I repressed, that they might flow at their
will, spreading them beneath my heart 5 and it rested in
them, for Thy ears were nigh me, not those of man, who
would have put a scornful interpretation on my weeping.
But now in writing I confess it unto Thee, O Lord! Read it
who will, and interpret how he will 5 and if he finds me to
have sinned in weeping for my mother during so small a
part of an hour, that mother who was for a while dead to
mine eyes, who had for many years wept for me, that I
might live in Thine eyes, let him not laugh at me, but
rather, if he be a man of a noble charity, let him weep for
my sins against Thee, the Father of all the brethren of Thy
Christ*
CHAP. xm. He entreats God for her sins, and admonishes his
readers to remember her 'piously.
34. But, my heart being now healed of that wound, in
so far as it could be convicted of a carnal affection, I pour
out unto Thee, O our God, on behalf of that Thine hand-
maid, tears of a far different sort, even that which flows
from a spirit broken by the thoughts of the dangers of .every
soul that dieth in Adam. And although she, having been
"made alive" in Christ even before she was freed from the
flesh, had so lived as to praise Thy name both by her faith
and conversation, yet dare I not say that from the time Thou
didst regenerate her by baptism, no word went forth from
CHAP, XIII.] SINS AFTER BAPTISM
her mouth against Thy precepts. And it hath been declared
by Thy Son, the Truth, that "Whosoever shall say to his
brother, Thou fool, shall be in danger of hell fire." And
woe even unto the praiseworthy life of man, if, putting away
mercy, Thou shouldest investigate it. But because Thou dost
not narrowly inquire after sins, we hope with confidence
to find some place of indulgence with Thee. But whosoever
recounts his true merits to Thee, what is it that he recounts
to Thee but Thine own gifts? Oh, if men would know
themselves to be men 5 and that "he that glorieth" would
"glory in the Lord!"
35. I then, O my Praise and my Life, Thou God of my
heart, putting aside for a little her good deeds, for which I
joyfully give thanks to Thee, do now beseech Thee for the
sins of my mother. Hearken unto me, through that Medi-
cine of our wounds who hung upon the tree, and who, sitting
at Thy right hand, "maketh intercession for us." I know
that she acted mercifully, and from the heart forgave her
debtors their debts 5 do Thou also forgive her debts, what-
ever she contracted during so many years since the water
of salvation. Forgive her, O Lord, forgive her, I beseech
Thee; "enter not into judgment" with her. Let Thy mercy
be exalted above Thy justice, because Thy words are true,
and Thou hast promised mercy unto "the merciful j" which
Thou gavest them to be who wilt "have mercy" on whom
Thou wilt "have mercy ," and wilt "have compassion" on
whom Thou hast had compassion.
36. And I believe Thou hast already done that which I
ask Thee 5 but "accept the free-will offerings of my mouth,
O Lord." For she, when the day of her dissolution was
near at hand, took no thought to have her body sumptuously
covered, or embalmed with spices j nor did she covet a choice,
21 6 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK IX
monument, or desire her paternal burial-place. These things
she entrusted not to us, but only desired to have her name
remembered at Thy altar, which she had served without the
omission of a single day; whence she knew that the holy
sacrifice was dispensed, by which the handwriting that was
against us is blotted out; by which the enemy was triumphed
over, who, summing up our offences, and searching for some-
thing to bring against us, found nothing in Him in whom we
conquer. Who will restore to Him the innocent blood?
Who will repay Him the price with which He bought us, so
as to take us from Him? Unto the sacrament of which our
ransom did Thy handmaid bind her soul by the bond o
faith. Let none separate her from Thy protection. Let
not the "lion" and the "dragon" introduce himself by force
or fraud. For she will not reply that she owes nothing, lest
she be convicted and got the better of by the wily deceiver;
but she will answer that her "sins are forgiven" by Him to
whom no one is able to repay that price which He, owing
nothing, laid down for us.
37. May she therefore rest in peace with her husband,
before or after whom she married none; whom she obeyed,
with patience bringing forth fruit unto Thee, that she might
gain him also for Thee. And inspire, O my Lord my God,
inspire Thy servants my brethren, Thy sons my masters, who
with voice and heart and writings I serve, that so many of
them as shall read these confessions may at Thy altar remem-
ber Monica, Thy handmaid, together with Patricius, her
sometime husband, by whose flesh Thou introducedst me into
this life, in what manner I know not. May they with pious
affection be mindful of my parents in this transitory light, of
my brethren that are under Thee our Father in our Catholic
mother, and of my fellow-citizens in the eternal Jerusalem,
CHAP. XIII.] HE PRAYS FOR HIS MOTHER 217
which the wandering of Thy people sigheth for from their
departure until their return. That so my mother's last en-
treaty to me may, through my confessions more than through
my prayers, be more abundantly fulfilled to her through the
prayers of many (26),
BOOK TENTH
HAVING MANIFESTED WHAT HE WAS AND WHAT HE IS, HE SHOWS THE GREAT
FRUIT OF HIS CONFESSION; AND BEING ABOUT TO EXAMINE BY WHAT
METHOD GOD AND THE HAPPY LIFE MAY BE FOUND, HE ENLARGES ON
THE NATURE AND POWER OF MEMORY. THEN HE EXAMINES HIS OWN
ACTS, THOUGHTS, AND AFFECTIONS, VIEWED UNDER THE THREEFOLD
DIVISION OF TEMPTATION; AND COMMEMORATES THE LORD, THE ONE
MEDIATOR OF GOD AND MEN.
CHAP, i. In God alone is the hofe and joy of man*
I. T ET me know Thee, O Thou who knowest me; let me
JL^ know Thee, as I am known. O Thou strength of
my soul, enter into it, and prepare it for Thyself, that Thou
mayest have and hold it without "spot or wrinkle." This is
my hope, "therefore have I spoken j" and in this hope do
I rejoice, when I rejoice soberly. Other things of this life
ought the less to be sorrowed for, the more they are sorrowed
for 3 and ought the more to be s'orrowed for, the less men
do sorrow for them. For behold, "Thou desirest truth,"
seeing that he who does it "cometh to the light." This wish
I to do in confession in my heart before Thee, and in my
writing before many witnesses.
CHAP. ii. That all things are manifest to God. . That confession
unto Him is not made by the words of the flesh) but of the
soul, and the cry of reflection*
2. And from Thee, O Lord, unto whose eyes the depths
of man's conscience are naked, what in me could be hidden
though I were unwilling to confess to Thee? For so should
I hide Thee from myself, not myself from Thee. But now,
21$
CHAP. III.] WHY HE CONFESSES 219
because my groaning witnesseth that I am dissatisfied with
myself 5 Thou shinest forth, and satisfiest, and art beloved and
desired $ that I may blush for myself, and renounce myself,
and choose Thee, and may neither please Thee nor myself,
except in Thee. To Thee then, O Lord, arn I manifest, what-
ever I am, and with what fruit I may confess unto Thee
I have spoken. Nor do I it with words and sounds of the
flesh, but with the words of the soul, and that cry of reflec-
tion which Thine ear knoweth. For when I am wicked, to
confess to Thee is naught but to be dissatisfied with myself 5
but when I am truly devout, it is naught but not to attribute
it to myself, because Thou, O Lord, dost "bless the right-
eous j" but first Thou justifiest him "ungodly." My confes-
sion, therefore, O my God, in Thy sight, is made unto Thee
silently, and yet not silently. For in noise it is silent, in
affection it cries aloud. For neither do I give utterance to
anything that is right unto me, which Thou hast not heard
from me before, nor dost Thou hear anything of the kind
from me which Thyself saidst not first unto me.
CHAP. in. He who confesseth rightly unto God best knoweth
himself.
3. What then have I to do with men, that they should
hear my confessions, as if they were going to cure all my
diseases? A people curious to know the lives of others, but
slow to correct their own. Why do they desire to hear from
me what I am, who are unwilling to hear from Thee what
they are? And how can they tell, when they hear from
me of myself, whether I speak the truth, seeing that no man
knoweth what is in man, "save the spirit of man which is in
him"? But if they hear from Thee aught concerning them-
selves, they will not be able to say, "The Lord lieth." For-
22O CONFESSIONS OF ST AUGUSTINE [BOOK X,
what is it to hear from Thee of themselves, but to know
themselves? And who is he that knoweth himself and saith,
"It is false," unless he himself lieth? But because "charity
believeth all things" (amongst those at all events whom by
union with itself it maketh one), I too, O Lord, also so con-
fess unto Thee that men may hear, to whom I cannot prove
whether I confess the truth, yet do they believe me whose
ears charity openeth unto me.
4. But yet do Thou, my most secret Physician, make clear
to me what fruit I may reap by doing it. For the confessions
of my past sins, which Thou hast "forgiven" and "cov-
ered," that Thou mightest make me happy in Thee, changing
my soul by faith and Thy sacrament, when they are read
and heard, stir up the heart, that it sleep not in despair and
say, "I cannot ;" but that it may awake in the love of Thy
mercy and the sweetness of Thy grace, by which he -that is
weak is strong, if by it he is made conscious of his own weak-
ness. As for the good, they take delight in hearing of the
past errors of such as are now freed from them; and they
delight, not because they are errors, but because they have
been and are so no longer. For what fruit, then, O Lord my
God, to whom my conscience maketh her daily confession,
more confident in the hope of Thy mercy than in her own
innocency, for what fruit, I beseech Thee, do I confess even
to men in Thy presence by this book what I am at this time,
not what I have been? For that fruit I have both seen and
spoken of, but what I am at this time, at the very moment of
making my confessions, divers people desire to know, both
who knew me and who knew me not, who have heard of or
from me, but their ear is not at my heart, where I am what-
soever I am. They are desirous, then, of hearing me confess
what I am within, where they, can neither stretch eye, nor
CHAP. IV.] HOW HIS CONFESSIONS SHOULD BE RECEIVED 221
ear, nor mind 5 they desire it as those willing to believe,
but will they understand? For charity, by which they are
good, says unto them that I do not lie in my confessions, and
she in them believes me.
CHAP. iv. That an his Confessions ke may do good, he considers
others*
5. But for what fruit do they desire this? Do they wish
me happiness when they learn how near, by Thy gift, I come
unto Theej and to pray for me, when they learn how much
I am kept back by my own weight? To such will I declare
myself. For it is no small fruit, O Lord my God, that by
many thanks should be given to Thee on our behalf, and that
by many Thou shouldest be entreated for us. Let the fra-
ternal soul love that in me which Thou teachest should be
loved, and lament that in me which Thou teachest should be
lamented. Let a fraternal and not an alien soul do this, nor
that "of strange children, whose mouth speaketh vanity, and
their right hand is a right hand of falsehood," but that
fraternal one which, when it approves me, rejoices for me,
but when it disapproves me, is sorry for me; because whether
it approves or disapproves it loves me. To such will I declare
myself j let them breathe freely at my good deeds, and sigh
over my evil ones. My good deeds are Thy institutions and
Thy gifts, my evil ones are my delinquencies and Thy judg-
ments. Let them breathe freely at the one, and sigh over
the other 5 and let hymns and tears ascend into Thy sight out
of the fraternal hearts Thy censers. And do Thou,
O Lord, who takest delight in the incense of Thy holy tem-
ple, have mercy upon me according to Thy great mercy, "for
Thy name's sake $ " and on no account leaving what Thou
hast begun in me, do Thou complete what is imperfect in me.
222 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X.
6. This is the fruit of my conf essions, not of what I was,
but of what I am, that I may confess this not before Thee
only, in a secret exultation with trembling, and a secret sor-
row with hope, but in the ears also of the believing sons of
men, partakers of my joy, and sharers of my mortality, my
fellow-citizens and the companions of my pilgrimage, those
who are gone before, and those that are to follow after, and
the comrades of my way. These are Thy servants, my
brethren, those whom Thou wishest to be Thy sons; my
masters, whom Thou hast commanded me to serve, if I desire
to live with and of Thee. But this Thy word were little to
me did it command in speaking, without going before in
acting. This then do I both in deed and word, this I do
under Thy wings, in too great danger, were it not that my
soul, under Thy wings, is subject unto Thee, and my weak-
ness known unto Thee. I am a little one, but my Father
liveth for ever, and my Defender is "sufficient" for me.
For He is the same who begat me and who defends me 5
and Thou Thyself art all my good; even Thou, the Omnipo-
tent, who art with me, and that before I am with Thee. To
such, therefore, whom Thou commandest me to serve will I
declare, not what I was, but what I now am, and what I still
am. But neither do I judge myself. Thus then I would be
heard.
CHAP. v. That man knoweth not himself wholly.
7. For it is Thou, Lord, that judgest me; for although no
"man knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of man
which is in him," yet is there something of man which "the
spirit of man which is in him" itself knoweth not. But
Thou, Lord, who hast made him, knowest him wholly. I
indeed, though in Thy sight I despise myself, and reckon
CHAP. VI.] GOD THE JOY OF THE SOUL 223
"myself but dust and ashes," yet know something concerning
Thee, which I know not concerning myself. And assuredly
"now we see through a glass darkly," not yet "face to face."
So long, therefore, as I be "absent" from Thee, I am more
"present" with myself than with Thee 5 and yet know I that
Thou canst not suffer violence 5 but for myself I know not
what temptations I am able to resist, and what I am not able.
But there is hope, because Thou art faithful, who wilt not
suffer us to be tempted above that we are able, but wilt with
the temptation also make a way to escape, that we may be
able to bear it. I would therefore confess what I know con-
cerning myself 5 I will confess also what I know not concern-
ing myself. And because what I do know of myself, I know
by Thee enlightening me; and what I know not of myself,
so long I know not until the time when my "darkness be as
the noonday" in Thy sight.
CHAP. VI. The love of God, In His nature superior to all cre&~
lures is required by the knowledge of the senses and the
exercise of reason.
8. Not with uncertain, but with assured consciousness do
I love Thee, O Lord. Thou hast stricken my heart with Thy
word, and I loved Thee. And also the heaven, and earth,
and all that is therein, behold, on every side they say that I
should love Thee 5 nor do they cease to speak unto all, "so
that they are without excuse." But more profoundly wilt
Thou have mercy on whom Thou wilt have mercy, and com-
passion on whom Thou wilt have compassion, otherwise do
both heaven and earth tell forth Thy praises to deaf ears.
But what is it that I love in loving Thee? Not corporeal
beauty, nor the splendour of time, nor the radiance of the
light, so pleasant to our eyes^ nor the sweet melodies of songs
224 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X.
of all kinds, nor the fragrant smell of flowers, and ointments,
and spices, not manna and honey, not limbs pleasant to the
embracements of flesh. I love not these things when I love
my God 5 and yet I love a certain kind of light, and sound,
and fragrance, and food, and embracement in loving my
God, who is the light, sound, fragrance, food, and embrace-
ment of my inner man where that light shineth unto my
soul which no place can contain, where that soundeth which
time snatcheth not away, where there is a fragrance which
no breeze disperseth, where there is a food which no eating
can diminish, and where that clingeth which no satiety can
sunder. This is what I love, when I love my God.
9. And what is this? I asked the earth 5 and it answered,
"I am not He 5" and whatsoever are therein made the same
confession. I asked the sea and the deeps, and the creeping
things that lived, and they replied, "We are not thy God,
seek higher than we." I asked the breezy air, and the uni-
versal air with its inhabitants answered, "Anaximenes (27)
was deceived, I am not God." I asked the heavens, the sun,
moon, and stars: "Neither," say they, "are we the God whom
thou seekest." And I answered unto all these things which
stand about the door of my flesh, "Ye have told me concern-
ing my God, that ye are not He 5 tell me something about
Him." And with a loud voice they exclaimed, "He made
us." My questioning was my observing of them; and their
beauty was their reply. And I directed my thoughts to
myself, and said, "Who art thou?" And I answered, "A
man." And lo, in me there appear both body and soul, the
one without, the other within. By which of these should I
seek my God, whom I had sought through the body from
earth to heaven, as far as I was able to send messengers
the beams of mine eyes? But the better part is that which
CHAP. VI.] HOW WE LEARN OF GOD 225
is inner, for to it, as both president and judge, did all these
my corporeal messengers render the answers of heaven and
earth and all things therein, who said, "We are not God,
but He made us." These things was my inner man cog-
nizant of by the ministry 'of the outer; I, the inner man,
knew all this I, the soul, through the senses of my body.
I asked the vast bulk of the earth of my God, and it answered
me, "I am not He, but He made me."
10. Is not this beauty visible to all whose senses are un-
impaired? Why then doth it not speak the same things unto
all? Animals, the very small and the great, see it, but they
are unable to question it, because their senses are not endowed
with reason to enable them to judge on what they report.
But men can question it, so that "the invisible things of
Him . . . are clearly seen, being understood by the things
that are made;" but by loving them, they are brought into
subjection to them 5 and subjects are; not able to judge.
Neither do the creatures reply to such as question them,
unless they can judge ; nor will they alter their voice (that is,
their beauty), if so be one man only sees, another both sees
and questions, so as to appear one way to this man, and
another to that 5 but appearing the same way to both, it is
mute to this, it speaks to that yea, verily, it speaks unto all;
but they only understand it who compare that voice received
from without with the truth within. For the truth declareth
unto me, "Neither heaven, nor earth, nor any body is thy
God." This, their nature declareth unto him that beholdeth
them. "They are a mass; a mass is less in part than in the
whole." Now, O my soul, thou art my better part, unto thee
I speak, for thou animatest the mass of thy body, giving it
life, which no body furnishes to a body; but thy God is even
unto thee the Life of life.
CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK x v .
CHAP. vn. That God is to be found neither from the powers of
the body nor of the sotiL
11. What then is it that I love when I love my God?
Who is He that is above the head of my soul? By my soul
itself will I mount up unto Him. I will soar beyond that
power of mine whereby I cling to the body, and fill the whole
structure of it with life. Not by that power do I find my
God 5 for then the horse and the mule, "which have no
understanding/ 5 might find Him, since it is the same power
by which their bodies also live. But there is another power,
not that only by which I quicken, but that also by which I
endow with sense my flesh, which the Lord hath made for
me ; bidding the eye not to hear, and the ear not to see; but
that, for me to see by, and this, for me to hear by 5 and to
each of the other senses its own proper seat and office, which
being different, I, the single mind, do through them govern,
I will soar also beyond this power of mine; for this the horse
and mule possess, for they too discern through the body.
CHAP. vm. Of the nature and the amazing power of memory.
12. I will soar, then, beyond this power of my nature
also, ascending by degrees unto Him who made me. And I
enter the fields and roomy chambers of memory, where are
the treasures of countless images, imported into it from all
manner of things by the senses. There is treasured up what-
soever likewise we think, either by enlarging or diminishing,
or by varying in any way whatever those things which the
sense hath arrived at; yea, and whatever else hath been en-
trusted to it and stored up, which oblivion hath not yet
engulfed and buried. When I am in this storehouse, I
demand that what I wish should be brought f orth, and some
CHAP. VIII.] MEMORY 227
things immediately appear 5 others require to be longer
sought after, and are dragged, as it were, out of some hidden
receptacle 5 others, again, hurry forth in crowds, and while
another thing is sought and inquired for, they leap into view,
as if to say, "Is it not we, perchance?" These I drive away
with the hand of my heart from before the face of my
remembrance^ until what I wish be discovered making its
appearance out of its secret cell. Other things suggest them-
selves without effort, and in continuous order, just as they
are called for, those in front giving place to those that
follow, and in giving place are treasured up again to be forth-
coming when I wish it. All of which takes place when I
repeat a thing from memory.
13. All these things, each of which entered by its own
avenue, are distinctly and under general heads there laid up:
as, for example, light, and all colours and forms of bodies,
by the eyes 5 sounds of all kinds by the ears 5 all smells by
the passage of the nostrils $ all flavours by that of the mouth 5
and by the sensation of the whole body is brought in what is
hard or soft, hot or cold, smooth or rough, heavy or light,
whether external or internal to the body. All these doth that
great -receptacle of memory, with its many and indescribable
departments, receive, to be recalled and brought forth when
required; each, entering by its own door, is laid up in it.
And yet the things themselves do not enter it, but only the
images of the things perceived are there ready at hand for
thought to recall. And who can tell how these images are
formed, notwithstanding that it is evident by which of the
senses each has been fetched in and treasured up? For even
while I live in darkness and silence, I can bring out colours
in memory if I wish, and discern between black and white,
and what others I wish; nor yet do sounds break in and
228 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X.
disturb what is drawn in by mine eyes, and which I am con-
sidering, seeing that they also are there, and are concealed,
laid up, as it were, apart. For these too I can summon if I
please, and immediately they appear. And though my
tongue be at rest, and my throat silent, yet can I sing as
much as I will 5 and those images of colours, which notwith-
standing are there, do not interpose themselves and interrupt
when another treasure is under consideration which flowed
in through the ears. So the remaining things carried in and
heaped up by the other senses, I recall at my pleasure. And
I discern the scent of lilies from that of violets while smell-
ing nothing 5 and I prefer honey to grape-syrup, a smooth
thing to a rough, though then I neither taste nor handle,
but only remember.
14. These things do I within, in that vast chamber of my
memory. For there are nigh me heaven, earth, sea, and
whatever I can think upon in them, besides those which I
have forgotten. There also do I meet with myself, and
recall myself, what, when, or where I did a thing, and how
I was affected when I did it. There are all which I remem-
ber, either by personal experience or on the faith of others.
Out "of the same supply do I myself with the past construct
now this, now that likeness of things, which either I have ex-
perienced, or, from having experienced, have believed 5 and
thence again future actions, events, and hopes, and upon all
these again do I meditate as if they were present. "I will
do this or that," say I to myself in that vast womb of my
mind, filled with the images of things so many and so great,
"and this or that shall follow upon it." "Oh that this or
that might come to pass! " "God avert this or that ! " Thus
speak I to myself 5 and when I "speak, the images of all I
speak about are present, out of the same treasury of memory 5
CHAP. IX.] POWER OF MEMORY 229
nor could I say anything at all about them were the images
absent.
15. Great is this power of memory, exceeding great, O
my God, an inner chamber large and boundless! Who
has plumbed the depths thereof? Yet it is a power of mine,
and appertains unto my nature j nor do I myself grasp all
that I am. Therefore is the mind too narrow to contain
itself. And where should that be which it doth not contain
of itself? Is it outside and not in itself? How is it, then,
that it doth not grasp itself? A great admiration rises upon
me 5 astonishment seizes me. And men go forth to wonder
at the heights of mountains, the huge waves of the sea, the
broad flow of the rivers, the extent of the ocean, and the
courses of the stars, and omit to wonder at themselves; nor
do they marvel that when I spoke of all these things, I was
not looking on them with my eyes, and yet could not speak of
them unless those mountains, and waves, and rivers, and
stars which I saw, and that ocean which I believe in, I saw
inwardly in my memory, and with the same vast spaces
between as when I saw them abroad. But I did not by seeing
appropriate them when I looked on them with my eyes ; nor
are the things themselves with me, but their images. And I
knew by what corporeal sense each made impression on me.
CHAP. IX. Not only things, but also literature and images, are
taken from the memory, and are brought forth by the act of
remembering.
1 6. And yet are not these all that the illimitable capacity
of my memory retains. Here also is all that is apprehended
of the liberal sciences, and not yet forgotten removed as it
were into an inner place, which is not a place; nor are they
the images which are retained, but the things themselves.
23O CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X.
For what is literature, what skill in disputation, whatsoever I
know of all the many kinds of questions there are, is so in
my memory, as that I have not taken in the image and left
the thing without, or that it should have sounded and passed
away like a voice imprinted on the ear by that trace, whereby
it might be recorded, as though it sounded when it no longer
did so y or as an odour while it passes away, and vanishes
into wind, affects the sense of smell, whence it conveys the
image of itself into the memory, which we realize in recol-
lecting y or like food, which assuredly in the belly hath now
no taste, and yet hath a kind of taste in the memory, or like
anything that is by touching felt by the body, and which
even when removed from us is imagined by the memory.
For these things themselves are not put into it, but the
images of them only are caught up, with a marvellous quick-
ness, and laid up, as it were, in most wonderful garners, and
wonderfully brought forth when we remember.
CHAP. x. Literature is not introduced to the memory through the
senses^ but is brought forth from its more secret 'places.
17. But truly when I hear that there are three kinds of
questions, "Whether a thing is? what it is? of what kind
it is?" I do indeed hold fast the images of the sounds of
which these words are composed, and I know that those
sounds passed through the air with a noise, and now are not.
But the things themselves which are signified by these sounds
I never arrived at by any sense of the body, nor ever per-
ceived them otherwise than by my mind; and in my memory
have I laid up not their images, but themselves, which, how
they entered into me, let them tell if they are able. For I
examine all the gates of my flesh, but find not by which of
them they entered. For the eyes say, "If they were coloured,
CHAP. XI.] CONTENTS OF MEMORY 23!
we announced them." The ears say, "If they sounded, we
gave notice of them." The nostrils say, "If they smell,
they passed in by us." The sense of taste says, "If they
have no flavour, ask not me." The touch says, "If it have
not body, I handled it not, and if I never handled it, I gave
no notice of it." Whence and how did these things enter
into my memory? I know not how. For when I learned
them, I gave not credit to the heart of another man, but
perceived them in my own; and I approved them as true,
and committed them to it, laying them up, as it were, whence
I might fetch them when I willed. There, then, they were,
even before I learned them, but were not in my memory.
Where were they, then, or wherefore, when they were
spoken, did I acknowledge them, and say, "So it is, it is
true," unless as being already in the memory, though so
put back and concealed, as it were, in more secret caverns,
that had they not been drawn forth by the advice of another
I would not, perchance, have been able to conceive of them?
CHAP. XI. What it is to leam and to think.
1 8. Wherefore we find that to learn these things, whose
images we drink not in by our senses, but perceive within as
they are by themselves, without images, is nothing else but
by meditation as it were to concentrate, and by observing to
take care that those notions which the memory did before
contain scattered and confused, be laid up at hand, as it were,
in that same memory, where before they lay concealed,
scattered and neglected, and so the more easily present them-
selves to the mind well accustomed to observe them. And
how many things of this sort does my memory retain which
have been found out already, and, as I said, are, as it were,
laid up ready to hand, which we are said to have learned
232 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X.
and to have known 5 which, should we for small intervals
o time cease to recall, they are again so submerged and
slide back, as it were, into the more remote chambers, that
they must be evolved thence again as if new (for other
sphere they have none), and must be marshalled [cogenda]
again that they may become known 5 that is to say, they must
be collected [colligenda}^ as it were, from their dispersion;
whence we have the word cogitare. For cogo [7 collect}
and cogito [7 re-collect} have the same relation to each other
as ago and agtto, facio and factito. But the mind has appro-
priated to itself this word [cogitation], so that not that which
is collected anywhere, but what is collected, that is mar-
shalled, in the mind, is properly said to be "cogitated."
CHAP. xn. On the recollection of things mathematical.
19. The memory containeth also the reasons and in-
numerable laws of numbers and dimensions, none of which
hath any sense of the body impressed, seeing they have
neither colour, nor sound, nor taste, nor smell, nor sense of
touch. I have heard the sound of the words by which these
things are signified when they are discussed ; but the sounds
are one thing, the things another. For the sounds are one
thing in Greek, another in Latin 5 but the things themselves
are neither Greek, nor Latin, nor any other language. I
have seen the lines of the craftsmen, even the finest, like a
spider's web 5 but these are of another kind, they are not
the images of those which the eye of my flesh showed mej
he knoweth them who, without any idea whatsoever of a
body, perceives them within himself. I have also observed
the numbers of the things with which we number all the
senses of the body 3 but those by which we number are of
another kind, nor are they the images of these, and therefore
CHAP. XIII.] CONTENTS OF MEMORY 233
they certainly are. Let him who sees not these things mock
me for saying them; and I will pity him, whilst he mocks
me.
CHAP. xni. Memory retains all things.
20. All these things I retain in my memory, and how I
learnt them I retain. I retain also many things which I have
heard most falsely objected against them, which though they
be false, yet is it not false that I have remembered themj
and I remember, too, that I have distinguished between those
truths and these falsehoods uttered against them ; and I now
see that it is one thing to distinguish these things, another to
remember that I often distinguish them, when I often re-
flected upon them. I both remember, then, that I have
often understood these things, and what I now distinguish
and comprehend I store away in my memory, that hereafter
I may remember that I understood it now. Therefore also I
remember that I have remembered ; so that if afterwards I
shall call to mind that I have been able to remember these
things, it will be through the power of memory that I shall
call it to mind.
CHAP. xiy. Concerning the manner in which joy and sadness
may be brought back to the mind- and memory.
21. This same memory contains also the affections of my
mind 5 not in the manner in which the mind itself contains
them when it suffers them, but very differently according to
a power peculiar to memory. For without being joyous, I
remember myself to have had joy; and without being sad, I
call to mind my past sadness 5 and that of which I was once
afraid, I remember without fear 5 and without desire recall a
former desire. Again, on the contrary, I at times remember
CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X.
when joyous my past sadness, and when sad my joy. Which
is not to be wondered at as regards the body 5 for the mind
is one thing, the body another. If I, therefore, when happy,
recall some past bodily pain, it is not so strange a thing. But
now, as this very memory itself is mind (for when we give
orders to have a thing kept in memory, we say, "See that
you bear this in mind}" and when we forget a thing, we say,
"It did not enter my mind," and, "It slipped from my
mind," thus calling the memory itself mind), as this is so,
how comes it to pass that when being joyful I remember
my past sorrow, the mind has joy, the memory sorrow,
the mind, from the joy that is in it, is joyful, yet the mem-
ory, from the sadness that is in it, is not sad? Does not
the memory perchance belong unto the mind? Who will
say so? The memory doubtless is, so to say, the belly of the
mind, and joy and sadness like sweet and bitter food, which,
when entrusted to the memory, are, as it were, passed into
the belly, where they can be reposited, but cannot taste.
It is ridiculous to imagine these to be alike} and yet they
are not utterly unlike.
22. But behold, out of my memory I educe it, when I
affirm that there be four perturbations of the mind, desire,
joy, fear, sorrow; and whatsoever I shall be able to dispute
on these, by dividing each into its peculiar species, and by
defining it, there I find what I may say, and thence I educe
it} yet am I not disturbed by any of these perturbations when
by remembering them I call them to mind} and before I
recollected and reviewed them, they were there} wherefore
by remembrance could they be brought thence. Perchance,
then, even as meat is in ruminating brought up out of the
belly, so by calling to mind are these educed from the
memory. Why, then, does not the disputant, thus recol-
CHAP. XV-] CONTENTS OF MEMORY
letting, perceive in the mouth of his meditation the sweetness
of joy or the bitterness of sorrow? Is the comparison unlike
in this because not like in all points? For who would will-
ingly discourse on these subjects, if, as often as we name
sorrow or fear, we should be compelled to be sorrowful or
fearful? And yet we could never speak of them, did we
not find in our memory not merely the sounds of the names
according to the images imprinted on it by the senses of the
body, but the notions of the things themselves, which we
never received by any door of the flesh, but which the mind
itself, recognizing by the experience of its own passions,
entrusted to the memory, or else which the memory itself
retained without their being entrusted to it.
CHAP. xv. In memory there are also images of things which are
absent.
23. But whether by images or no, who can well affirm?
For I name a stone, I name the sun, and the things them-
selves are not present to my senses, but their images are near
to my memory. I name some pain of the body, yet it is not
present when there is no pain 5 yet if its image were not in
my memory, I should be ignorant what to say concerning it,
nor in arguing be able to distinguish it from pleasure. I
name bodily health when sound in body 5 the thing itself
indeed is present with me, but unless its image also were in
my memory, I could by no means call to mind what the
sound of this name signified. Nor would sick people know,
when health was named, what was said, unless the same
image were retained by the power of memory, although the
thing itself were absent from the body. I name numbers
whereby we enumerate.; and not their images, but they them-
236 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X.
selves are in my memory. I name the Image of the sun, and
this, too, is In my memory. For I do not recall the image
of that image, but itself, for the image itself is present when
I remember it. I name memory, and I know what I name.
But where do I know It, except in the memory itself? Is it
also present to itself by its image, and not by itself?
CHAP. xvi. The 'privation of memory is for get fulness.
24. When I name f orgetfulness, and know, too, what I
name, whence should 1 know it if I did not remember it?
I do not say the sound of the name, but the thing which it
signifies 5 which, had I forgotten, I could not know what
that sound signified. When, therefore, I remember mem-
ory, then is memory present with itself, through itself. But
when I remember forgetfulness, there are present both
memory and forgetfulness, memory, whereby I remember,
forgetfulness, which I remember. But what is forgetfulness
but the privation of memory? How, then, is that present
for me to remember, since, when it is so, I cannot remember?
But if what we remember we retain in memory, yet, unless
we remembered forgetfulness, we could never at the hearing
of the name know the thing meant by it, then is forgetfulness
retained by memory. Present, therefore, it is, lest we should
forget it 5 and being so, we do forget. Is it to be inferred
from this that forgetfulness, when we remember it, is not
present to the memory through itself, but through its image j
because, were forgetfulness present through itself, it would
not lead us to remember, but to forget? Who now will
investigate this? Who shall understand how it is?
25. Truly, O Lord, I labour therein, and labour In my-
self. I am becomeji troublesome soil that requires over-
CHAP. XVI.] PRIVATION OF MEMORY 237
much labour. For we are not now searching out the tracts
of heaven, or measuring the distances of the stars, or in-
quiring about the weight of the earth. It is I myself I,
the mind who remember. It is not much to be wondered
at, if what I myself am not be far from me. But what is
nearer to me than myself? And, behold, I am not able to
comprehend the force of my own memory, though I cannot
name myself without it. For what shall I say when it is
plain to me that I remember forgetfulness? Shall- 1 affirm
that that which I remember is not in my memory? Or shall
I say that forgetfulness is in my memory with the view of
my not forgetting? Both of these are most absurd. What
third view is there? How can I assert that the image of
forgetfulness is retained by my memory, and not forgetful-
ness itself, when I remember it? And how can I assert this,
seeing that when the image of anything is imprinted on the
memory, the thing itself must of necessity be present first
by which that image may be imprinted? For thus do I
remember Carthage j thus, all the places to which I have
been; thus, the faces of men whom I have seen, and things
reported by the other senses; thus, the health or sickness of
the body. For when these objects were present, my memory
received images from them, which, when they were present,
I might gaze on and reconsider in my mind, as I remembered
them when they were absent. If, therefore, forgetfulness is
retained in the memory through its image, and not through
itself, then itself was once present, that its image might be
taken. But when it was present, how did it write its image
on the memory, seeing that forgetfulness by its presence
blots out even what it finds already noted? And yet, in
whatever way, though it be incomprehensible and ine*
238 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X,
plicable, yet most certain I am that I remember also forget-
fulness itself, whereby what we do remember is blotted out,
CHAP. xvn. God cannot be attained unto by the 'power of memory,
which beasts and birds ^possess.
26. Great is the power of memory; very wonderful is it,
O my God, a profound and infinite manifoldness; and this
thing is the mind, and this I myself am. What then am I,
O my God? Of what nature am I? A life various and
manifold, and exceeding vast. Behold, in the numberless
fields, and caves, and caverns of my memory, full without
number of numberless kinds of things, either through
images, as all bodies are; or by the presence of the things
themselves, as are the arts ; or by some notion or observation,
as the affections of the mind are, which, even though the
mind doth not suffer, the memory retains, while whatsoever
is in the memory is also in the mind: through all these do I
run to and fro, and fly 5 I penetrate on this side and that, as
far as I am able, and nowhere is there an end. So great
is the power of memory, so great the power of life in man^
whose life is mortal. What then shall I do, O Thou my
true life, my God? I will pass even beyond this power of
mine which is called memory I will pass beyond it, that I
may proceed to Thee, O Thou sweet Light. What sayest
Thou to me? Behold, I am soaring by my mind towards
Thee who remainest above me. I will also pass beyond this
power of mine which is called memory, wishful to reach
Thee whence Thou canst be reached, and to cleave unto
Thee whence it is possible to cleave unto Thee. For even
beasts and birds possess memory, else could they never find
their lairs and nests again, nor many other things to which
CHAP. XVIII.] HE PASSES BEYOND MEMORY TO FIND GOD 239
they are used 5 neither indeed could they become used to
anything, but by their memory. I will pass, then, beyond
memory also, that I may reach Him who has separated me
from the four-footed beasts and the fowls of the air, making
me wiser than they. I will pass beyond memory also, but
where shall I find Thee, O Thou truly good and assured
sweetness? But where shall I find Thee? If I find Thee
without memory, then am I unmindful of Thee. And how
now shall I find Thee, if I do not remember Thee?
CHAP. xvin. A thing when lost could not be found unless it were
retained in the memory*
27. For the woman who lost her drachma, and searched
for it with a lamp, unless she had remembered it, would
never have found it. For when it was found, whence could
she know whether it were the same, had she not remembered
it? I remember to have lost and found many things 5 and
this I know thereby, that when I was searching for any of
them, and was asked, "Is this it?" "Is that it?" I answered
"No," until such time as that which I sought were offered to
me. Which had I not remembered, whatever it were,
though it were offered me, yet would I not find it, because I
could not recognize it. And thus it is always, when we search
for and find anything that is lost. Notwithstanding, if any-
thing be by accident lost from the sight, not from the
memory, as any visible body, the image of it is retained
within, and is searched for until it be restored to sight ; and
when it is found, it is recognised by the image which is within.
Nor do we say that we have found what we had lost unless
we recognize it ; nor can we recognize it unless we remember
it. But this, though lost to the sight, was retained in the
memory.
24O CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X.
CHAP. xix. What it is to remember.
28. But how is it when the memory itself loses anything,
as it happens when we forget anything and try to recall it?
Where finally do we search, but in the memory itself? And
there, if perchance one thing be offered for another, we
refuse it, until we meet with what we seek 5 and when we
do, we exclaim, "This is it!" which we should not do unless
we knew it again, nor should we recognize it unless we re-
membered it. Assuredly, therefore, we had forgotten it.
Or, had not the whole of it slipped our memory, but by the
part by which we had hold was the other part sought forj
since the memory perceived that it did not revolve together
as much as it was accustomed to do, and halting, as if from
the mutilation of its old habit, demanded the restoration of
that which was wanting. For example, if we see or think of
some man known to us, and, having forgotten his name,
endeavour to recover it, whatsoever other thing presents
itself is not connected with it 5 because it was not used to be
thought of in connection with him, and is consequently re-
jected, until that is present whereon the knowledge reposes
fittingly as its accustomed object. And whence, save from
the memory itself, does that present itself? For even when
we recognize it as put in mind of it by another, it is thence
it comes. For we do not believe it as something new, but,
as we recall it, admit what was said to be correct. But if it
were entirely blotted out of the mind, we should not, even
when put in mind of it, recollect it. For we have not as yet
entirely forgotten what we remember that we have for-
gotten. A lost notion, then, which we have entirely for-
gotten, we cannot even search for
CHAP. XX.] THE HAPPY LIFE 24!
CHAP. xx. We should not seek for God and the hafpy life unless
we had known It.
29. How, then, do I seek Thee, O Lord? For when I
seek Thee, my God, I seek a happy life. I will seek Thee,
that my soul may live. For my body liveth by my soul, and
my soul liveth by Thee. How, then, do I seek a happy
life, seeing that it is not mine till I can say, "It is enough ! "
in that place where I ought to say it? How do I seek it?
Is it by remembrance, as though I had forgotten it, knowing
too that I had forgotten it? or, longing to learn it as a thing
unknown, which either I had never known, or had so for-
gotten it as not even to remember that I had forgotten it?
Is not a happy life the thing that all desire, and is there
any one who altogether desires it not? But where did they
acquire the knowledge of it, that they so desire it? Where
have they seen it, that they so love it? Truly we have it,
but how I know not. Yea, there is another way in which,
when any one hath it, he is happy 5 and some there be that
are happy in hope. These have it in an inferior kind to
thpse that are happy in fact 5 and yet are they better off
than they who are happy neither in fact nor in hope. And
even these, had they it not in some way, would not so much
desire to be happy, which that they do desire is most certain.
How they come to know it, I cannot tell, but they have it by
some kind of knowledge unknown to me, who am in much
doubt as to whether it be in the memory $ for if it be there,
then have we been happy once; whether all individually,
or as in that man who first sinned, in whom also we all died,
and from whom we are all born with misery, I do. not now
ask; .but I ask whether the happy life be in the memory?
For did we not know it,- we should not love it. 'We hear the
242 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X.
name, and we all acknowledge that we desire the thing ; for
we are not delighted with the sound only. For when a
Greek hears it spoken in Latin, he does not feel delighted,
for he knows not what is spoken 5 but we are delighted,
as he too would be if he heard it in Greek 5 because the thing
itself is neither Greek nor Latin, which Greeks and Latins,
and men of all other tongues, long so earnestly to obtain.
It is then known unto all, and could they with one voice be
asked whether they wished to be happy, without doubt they
would all answer that they would. And this could not be
unless the thing itself, of which it is the name, were retained
in their memory*
CHAP. xxi. How a ha^y life may be retained in the memory.
30. But is it so as one who has seen Carthage remembers
it? No. For a happy life is not visible to the eye, because
it is not a body. Is it, then, as we remember numbers? No.
For he that hath these in his knowledge strives not to attain
further 5 but a happy life we have in our knowledge, and,
therefore, do we love it, while yet we wish further to attain
it that we may be happy. Is it, then, as we remember elo-
quence? No. For although some, when they hear this
name, call the thing to mind, who, indeed, are not yet
eloquent, and many who wish to be so, whence it appears to
be in their knowledge ; yet have these by their bodily per-
ceptions noticed that others are eloquent, and been delighted
with it, and long to be so, although they would not be
delighted save for some interior knowledge, nor desire to
be so unless they were delighted, but a happy life we can
by no bodily perception make experience of in others. Is
it, then, as we remember joy? It may be so 5 for my joy I
remember, even when sad, like as I do a happy life when I
CHAP. XXI.] MEMORY AND HAPPINESS 43
am miserable. Nor did I ever with perception of the body
either see, hear, smell, taste, or touch my joy; but I expe-
rienced it in my mind when I rejoiced; and the knowledge
of it clung to my memory, so that I can call it to mind,
sometimes with disdain and at others with desire, according
to the difference of the things wherein I now remember
that I rejoiced. For even from unclean things have I been
bathed with a certain joy, which now calling to mind, I
detest and execrate; at other times, from good and honest
things, which, with longing, I call to mind, though perchance
they be not nigh at hand, and then with sadness do I call
to mind a former joy.
31. Where and when, then, did I experience my happy
life, that I should call it to mind, and love and long for it?
Nor is it I alone or a few others who wish to be happy, but
truly all; which, unless by certain knowledge we knew, we
should not wish with so certain a will. But how is this, that
if two men be asked whether they would wish to serve as
soldiers, one, it may be, would reply that he would, the
other, that he would not; but if they were asked whether
they would wish to be happy, both of them would unhesi-
tatingly say that they would; and this one would wish to
serve, and the other not, from no other motive but to be
happy? Is it, perchance, that as one joys in this, and another
in that, so do all men agree in their wish for happiness, as
they would agree, were they asked, in wishing to have joy,
and this joy they call a happy life? Although, then, one
pursues joy in this way, and another in that, all have one
goal, which they strive to attain, namely, to have joy. This
life, being a thing which no one can say he has not experi-
enced, it is on that account found in the memory, and
recognized whenever the name of a happy life is heard.
244 CONFESSIONS OF ST AUGUSTINE [BOOK X.
CHAP. xxii. A hafpy life is to rejoice in God, and for God.
32. Let it be far, O Lord, let it be far from the heart
of Thy servant who confesseth unto Thee; let it be far from
me to think myself happy, be the joy what it may. For
there is a joy which is not granted to the "wicked," but to
those who worship Thee thankfully, whose joy Thou Thyself
art. And the happy life is this, to rejoice unto Thee, in
Thee, and for Thee , this it is, and there is no other. But
those who think there is another follow after another joy,
and that not the true one. Their will, however, is not turned
away from some shadow of joy.
CHAP. xxm. All wish to rejoice in the Truth.
33. It is not, then, certain that all men wish to be happy,
since those who wish not to rejoice in Thee, which is the only
happy life, do not verily desire the happy life. Or do all
desire this, but because "the flesh lusteth against the spirit,
and the spirit against the flesh," so that they "cannot do the
things that they would," they fall upon that which they are
able to do, and, with that are content 5 because that which
they are not able to do, they do not so will as to make them
able? For I ask of every man, whether he would rather
rejoice in truth or in falsehood. They will no more hesitate
to say, "in truth" than to say, "that they wish to be happy."
For a happy life is joy in the truth. For this is joy in Thee,
who art "the truth," O God, "my light," "the health of
my countenance, and my God." All wish for this happy
life j this life do all wish for, which is the only happy onej
joy in the truth do all wish for. I have had experience of
many who wished to. deceive, but not one who wished to be
deceived. Where, then,. did they know this happy life, save
CHAP. XXIII.] MEN HATE TRUTH WHEN SHE REBUKES 245
where they knew also the truth? For they love it, too, since
they would not be deceived. And when, they love a happy
life, which is naught else but joy in the truth, assuredly they
love also the truth; which' yet they would not love were there
not some knowledge of it in the memory. Wherefore, then,
do they not rejoice in it? Why are they not happy? Because
they are more entirely occupied with other things which
rather make them miserable, than that which would make
them happy, which they remember so little of. For there is
yet a little light in men; let them walk let them "walk,"
that "the darkness" seize them not.
34. Why, then, doth truth beget hatred, and that ,man
of thine, preaching the truth, become an enemy unto them,
whereas a happy life is loved, which is naught else but joy
in the truth; unless that truth is loved in such a sort as
that those who love aught else wish that to be the truth
which they love, and, as they are willing to be deceived, are
unwilling to be convinced that they are so? Therefore do
they hate the truth for the sake of that thing which they
love instead of the truth. They love truth when she shines
on them, and hate her when she rebukes them. For, because
they are not willing to be deceived, and wish to deceive, they
love her when she reveals herself, and hate her when she
reveals them. On that account shall she so requite them,
that those who were unwilling to be discovered by her she
both discovers against their will, and discovers not herself
unto them. Thus, thus, truly thus doth the human mind, so
blind and sick, so base and unseemly, desire to lie concealed,
but wishes not that anything should be concealed from it.
But the opposite is rendered unto it, that itself is not con-
cealed from the truth, but the truth is concealed from it.
Yet, even while thus wretched, it prefers to rejoice in truth
246 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X.
rather than in falsehood. Happy then will it be, when, no
trouble intervening, it shall rejoice in that only truth by
whom all things else are true.
CHAP. xxiv. He who finds truth, finds God.
35. Behold how I have enlarged in my memory seeking
Thee, O Lord 5 and out of it have I not found Thee. Nor
have I found aught concerning Thee, but what I have re-
tained in memory from the time I learned Thee. For from
the time I learned Thee have I never forgotten Thee. For
where I found truth, there found I my God, who is the
Truth itself, which from the time I learned it have I not
forgotten. And thus since the time I learned Thee, Thou
abidest in my memory; and there do I find Thee when-
soever I call Thee to remembrance, and delight in Thee.
These are my holy delights, which Thou hast bestowed upon
me in Thy mercy, having respect unto my poverty.
CHAP. xxv. He is glad that God dwells In his memory.
36. But where in my memory abidest Thou, O Lord,
where dost Thou there abide? What manner of chamber
hast Thou there formed for Thyself? What sort of sanc-
tuary hast Thou erected for Thyself? Thou hast granted
this honour to my mefriory, to take up Thy abode in it; but
in what quarter of it Thou abidest, I am considering. For
in calling Thee to mind, I soared beyond those parts of it
which the beasts also possess, since I found Thee not there
amongst the images of corporeal things; and I arrived at
those parts where I had committed the affections of my mind,
nor there did I find Thee. And I entered into the very
seat of my mind, which it has in my memory, since the mind
CHAP. XXV.] GOD THE FOUNTAIN OF TRUTH
remembers itself also nor wert Thou there. For as Thou
art not a bodily image, nor the affection of a living creature,
as when we rejoice, condole, desire, fear, remember, forget,
or aught of the kind; so neither art Thou the mind itself,
because Thou art the Lord God of the mind 5 and all these
things are changed, but Thou remainest unchangeable over
all, yet vouchsaf est to dwell in my memory, from the time
I learned Thee. But why do I now seek in what part of it
Thou dwellest, as if truly there were places in it? Thou
dost dwell in it assuredly, since I have remembered Thee
from the time I learned Thee, and I find Thee in it when
I call Thee to mind.
CHAP. xxvr. God everywhere answers those who take counsel of
Rim.
37. Where, then, did I find Thee, so as to be able to
learn Thee? For Thou wert not in my memory before I
learned Thee. Where, then, did I find Thee, so as to be
able to learn Thee, but in Thee above me? Place there is
none ; we go both %ackward" and "forward," and there is
no place. Everywhere, O Truth, dost Thou direct all who
consult Thee, and dost at once answer all, though they
consult Thee on divers things. Clearly dost Thou answer,
though all do not with clearness hear. All consult Thee
upon whatever they wish, though they hear not always that
which they wish. He is Thy best servant who does not so
much look to hear that from Thee which he himself wisheth,
as to wish that which he heareth from Thee.
CHAP, xxvrr. Me grieves that he was so long without God.
38. Too late did I love Thee, O Fairness, so ancient, and
yet so new! Too late did I love Thee! For behold, Thou
248 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X.
wert within, and I without, and there did I seek Thee 5 I,
unlovely, rushed heedlessly among the things of beauty
Thou madest. Thou wert with me, but I was not with
Thee. Those things kept me far from Thee, which, unless
they were in Thee, were not. Thou calledst, and criedst
aloud, and forcedst open my deafness. Thou didst gleam
and shine, and chase away my blindness. Thou didst exhale
odours, and I drew in my breath and do pant after Thee.
I tasted, and do hunger and thirst. Thou didst touch me,
and I burned for Thy peace,
CHAP, xxvni. On the misery of human life.
39. When I shall cleave unto Thee with all my being,
then shall I in nothing have pain and labour 5 and my life
shall be a real life, being wholly full of Thee. But now
since he whom Thou fillest is the one Thou liftest up, I am a
burden to myself, as not being full of Thee. Joys of sorrow
contend with sorrows of joy 3 and on which side the victory
may be I know not. Woe is me! Lord, have pity on me.
My evil sorrows contend with my good joys 5 and on which
side the victory may be I know not. Woe is me! Lord,
have pity on me. Woe is me! Lo, I hide not my wounds $
Thou art the Physician, I the sick} Thou merciful, I miser-
able. Is not the life of man upon earth a temptation?
Who is he that wishes for vexations and difficulties? Thou
commandest them to be endured, not to be loved. For
no man loves what he endures, though he may love to
endure. For notwithstanding he rejoices to endure, he
would rather there were naught for him to endure. In
adversity, I desire prosperity 5 in prosperity, I fear adversity.
What middle place, then, is there between these, where
human life is not a temptation? Woe unto the prosperity
CHAP. XXIX.] LIFE A TEMPTATION 249
of this world, once and again, from fear of misfortune and
a corruption of joy! Woe unto the adversities of this world,
once and again, and for the third time, from the desire of
prosperity; and because adversity itself is a hard thing, and
makes shipwreck of endurance! Is not the life of man upon
earth a temptation, and that without intermission?
CHAP. xxix. All ho$e is in the mercy of God.
40. And my whole hope is only in Thy exceeding great
mercy. Give what Thou commandest, and command what
Thou wilt. Thou imposest continency upon us, "neverthe-
less, when I perceived," saith one, "that I could not otherwise
obtain her, except God gave her mej . . . that was a point
of wisdom also to know whose gift she was." For by con-
tinency are we bound up and brought into one, whence we
were scattered abroad into many. For he loves Thee too
little who loves aught with Thee, which he loves not for
Thee, O love, who ever burnest, and art never quenched!
O charity, my God, kindle me! Thou commandest con-
tinency $ give what Thou commandest, and command what
Thou wilt.
CHAP. xxx. Of the perverse images of dreams, which he wishes
to have taken away.
41. Verily, Thou commandest that I should be continent
from the "lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the
pride of life." Thou hast commanded me to abstain from
concubinage ; and as to marriage itself, Thou hast advised
something better than Thou hast allowed. And because
Thou didst give it, it was donej and that before I became a 1
dispenser of Thy sacrament. But there still exist in my
memory of which I have spoken much the images of such
25O CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X.
things as my habits had fixed there; and these rush into
my thoughts, though strengthless, when I am awake 5 but
in sleep they do so not only so as to give pleasure, but
even to obtain consent, and what very nearly resembles
reality. Yea, to such an extent prevails the illusion of the
image, both in my soul and in my flesh, that the false
persuade me, when sleeping, unto that which the true are
not able when waking. Am I not myself at that time, O
Lord my God? And there is yet so much difference be-
tween myself and myself, in that instant wherein I pass
back from waking to sleeping, or return from sleeping to
waking! Where, then, is the reason which when waking
resists such suggestions? And if the things themselves be
forced on it, I remain unmoved. Is it shut up with the eyes?
Or is it put to sleep with the bodily senses? But whence,
then, comes it to pass, that even in slumber we often resist,
and, bearing our purpose in mind, and continuing most
chastely in it, yield no assent to such allurements? And
there is yet so much difference that, when it happeneth
otherwise, upon awaking we return to peace of conscience ;
and by this same diversity do we discover that it was not
we that did it, while we still feel sorry that in some way it
was done in us.
42. Is not Thy hand able, O Almighty God, to heal all
the diseases of my soul, and by Thy more abundant grace
to quench even the lascivious motions of my sleep? Thou
wilt increase in me, O Lord, Thy gifts more and more, that
my soul may follow me to Thee, disengaged from the bird-
lime of concupiscence 5 that it may not be in rebellion against
itself, and even in dreams not simply not, through sensual
images, commit those deformities of corruption, even to the
pollution of the flesh, but that it may not even consent unto
CHAP. XXXI.] EVIL DREAMS 25!
them. For it is no great thing for the Almighty, who is
"able to do ... above all that we ask or think/' to bring
it about that no such influence not even so slight a one as
a sign might restrain should afford gratification to the
chaste affection even of one sleeping j and that not only in
this life, but at my present age. But what I still am in this
species of my ill, have I confessed unto my good Lord 5
rejoicing with trembling in that which Thou hast given me,
and bewailing myself for that wherein I am still imperfect 5
trusting that Thou wilt perfect Thy mercies in me, even to
the fulness of peace, which both that which is within and
that which is without shall have with Thee, when death is
swallowed up in victory.
CHAP. xxxr. About to sfeak of the temptations of the "lust of
the flesh" he first complains of the lust of eating and drinking.
43. There is another evil of the day that I would were
"sufficient" unto it. For by eating and drinking we repair
the daily decays of the body, until Thou destroyest both food
and stomach, when Thou shalt destroy my want with an
amazing satiety, and shalt clothe this corruptible with an
eternal incorruption. But now is necessity sweet unto me,
and against this sweetness do I fight, lest I be enthralled 5
and I carry on a daily war by fastings, oftentimes "bringing
my body into subjection," and my pains are expelled by
pleasure. For hunger and thirst are in some sort pains j they
consume and destroy like unto a fever, unless the medicine of
nourishment relieve us. The which, since it is at hand
through the comfort we receive of Thy gifts, with which
land and water and air serve our infirmity, our calamity is
called pleasure.
44. This much hast Thou taught me, that I should bring
252 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X.
myself to take food as medicine. But during the time that
I am passing from the uneasiness of want to the calmness of
satiety, even in the very passage doth that snare of con-
cupiscence lie in wait for me. For the passage itself is
pleasure, nor is there any other way of passing thither,
whither necessity compels us to pass.. And whereas health
is the reason of eating and drinking, there joineth itself as
an handmaid a perilous delight, which mostly tries to pre-
cede it, in order that I may do for her sake what I say I do,
or desire to do, for health's sake. Nor have both the same
limit 5 for what is sufficient for health is too little for pleas-
ure. And oftentimes it is doubtful whether it be the
necessary care of the body which still asks nourishment, or
whether a sensual snare of desire offers its ministry. In
this uncertainty does my unhappy soul rejoice, and therein
prepares an excuse as a defence, glad that it doth not appear
what may be sufficient for the moderation of health, that so
under the pretence of health it may conceal the business of
pleasure. These temptations do I daily endeavour to resist,
and I summon Thy right hand to my help, and refer my
excitements to Thee, because as yet I have no resolve in this
matter.
45. I hear the voice of my God commanding, let not
"your hearts be overcharged with surfeiting and drunken-
ness." "Drunkenness," it is far from me; Thou wilt have
mercy, that it approach not near unto me. But "surfeiting"
sometimes creepeth upon Thy servant 5 Thou wilt have
mercy, that it may be far from me. For no man can be
continent unless Thou give it. Many things which we pray
for dost Thou give us 5 and what good soever we receive
before we prayed for it, do we receive from Thee, and that
we might afterwards know this did we receive it from Thee<
CHAP. XXXI.] BY GRACE WE AVOID EXCESS 253
Drunkard was I never, but I have known drunkards to be
made sober men by Thee. Thy doing, then, was it, that
they who never were such might not be so, as from Thee
it was that they who have been so heretofore might not
remain so always 5 and from Thee, too, was it, that both
might know from whom it was. I heard another voice of
Thine, "Go not after thy lusts, but refrain thyself from
thine appetites." And by Thy favour have I heard this
saying likewise, which I have much delighted in, "Neither
if we eat, are we the better 5 neither if we eat not, are we
the worse $" which is to say, that neither shall the one make
me to abound, nor the other to be wretched. I heard also
another voice, "For I have learned, in whatsoever state I
am, therewith to be content. I know both how to be abased,
and I know how to abound. ... I can do all things through
Christ which strengthened me." Lo! a soldier of the
celestial camp not dust as we are. But remember, O Lord,
"that we are dust, 33 and that of dust Thou hast created manj
and he "was lost, and is found. 33 Nor could he do this of
his own power, seeing that he whom I so loved, saying
these things through the afflatus of Thy inspiration, was of
that same dust. "I can, 33 saith he, "do all things through
Him which strengthened me. 33 Strengthen me, that I may
be able. Give what Thou commandest, and command what
Thou wilt. He confesses to have received, and when he
glorieth, he glorieth in the Lord. Another have I heard
entreating that he might receive, "Take from me, 33 saith
he, "the greediness of the belly j 33 by which it appeareth, O
my holy God, that Thou givest when what Thou commandest
to be done is done.
46. Thou hast taught me, good Father, that "unto the
pure all things are pure;" but "it is evil for that man who
254 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X.
eateth with offence;" "and that every creature of Thine is
good, and nothing to be refused, if it be received with
thanksgiving;" and that "meat commendeth us not to God;"
and that no man should "judge us in meat or in drink;"
and that he that eateth, let him not despise him that eateth
not; and let not him that eateth not judge him that eateth.
These things have I learned, thanks and praise be unto
Thee, O my God and Master, who dost knock at my ears
and enlighten my heart; deliver me out of all temptation.
It is not the uncleanness of meat that I fear, but the un-
cleanness of lusting. I know that permission was granted
unto Noah to eat every kind of flesh that was good for food;
that Elias was fed with flesh; that John, endued with a
wonderful abstinence, was not polluted by the living crea-
tures (that is, the locusts) which he fed on. I know, too,
that Esau was deceived by a longing for lentiles, and that
David took blame to himself for desiring water, and that
our King was tempted not by flesh but bread. And the
people in the wilderness, therefore, also deserved reproof,
not because they desired flesh, but because, in their desire
for food, they murmured against the Lord.
47. Placed, then, in the midst of these temptations, I
strive daily against longing for food and drink. For it is
not of such a nature as that I am able to resolve to cut it off
once for all, and not touch it afterwards, as I was able to do
with concubinage. The bridle of the throat, therefore, is to
"be held in the mean of slackness and tightness. And who,
Lord, is he who is not in some degree carried away be-
yond the bounds of necessity? Whoever he is, he is great;
let him magnify Thy name. But I am not such a one, "for
1 am a sinful man." Yet do I also magnify Thy name; and
He who hath "overcome the world" maketh intercession to
CHAP. XXXII.] FALSE SECURITY 255
Thee for my sins, accounting me among the "feeble mem-
bers" of His body, because Thine eyes saw that of .him
which was imperfect} and in Thy book all shall be written.
CHAP. XXXH. Of the charms of perfumes which are more easily
overcome.
48. With the attractions of odours I am not much
troubled. When absent I do not seek them 5 when present
I do not refuse them; and am prepared ever to be without
them. At any rate thus I appear to myself; perchance I am
deceived. For that also is a lamentable darkness wherein my
capacity that is in me is concealed, so that my mind, making
inquiry into herself concerning her own powers, ventures
not readily to credit herself; because that which is already in
it is, for the most part, concealed, unless experience reveal
it. And no man ought to feel secure in this life, the whole
of which is called a temptation, that he, who could be made
better from worse, may not also from better be made worse.
Our sole hope, our sole confidence, our sole assured promise,
is Thy mercy.
CHAP. xxxm. He overcame the pleasures of the ear, although in
the church he frequently delighted in the song, not in the
thing sung.
49. The delights of the ear had more powerfully in-
veigled and conquered me, but Thou didst unbind and liber-
ate me. Now, in those airs which Thy words breathe soul
into, when sung with a sweet and trained voice, do I some-
what repose; yet not so as to cling to them, but so as to free
myself when I wish. But with the words which are their life
do they, that they may gain admission into me, strive after
a place of some honour in my heart; and I can hardly as-
sign them a fitting one. Sometimes I appear to myself
256 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X.
to give them more respect than is fitting, as I perceive that
our minds are more devoutly and earnestly elevated into a
flame of piety by the holy words themselves when they are
thus sung, than when they are not; and that all affections of
our spirit, by their own diversity, have their appropriate
measures in the voice and singing, wherewith by I know
not what secret relationship they are stimulated. But the
gratification of my flesh, to which the mind ought never to
be given over to be enervated, often beguiles me, while the
sense does not so attend on reason as to follow her patiently j
but having gained admission merely for her sake, it strives
even to run on before her, and be her leader. Thus in these
things do I sin unknowing, but afterwards do I know it.
50. Sometimes, again, avoiding very earnestly this same
deception, I err out of too great preciseness; and sometimes
so much as to desire that every air of the pleasant songs to
which David's Psalter is often used, be banished both from
my ears and those of the Church itself j and that way seemed
unto me safer which I remembered to have been often re-
lated to me of Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria, who obliged
the readers of the psalm to give utterance to it with so slight
an inflection of voice, that it was more like speaking than
singing. Notwithstanding, when I call to mind the tears
I shed at the songs of Thy Church, at the outset of my re-
covered faith, and how even now I am moved not by the
singing but by what is sung, when they are sung with a clear
and skilfully modulated voice, I then acknowledge the great
utility of this custom. Thus vacillate I between dangerous
pleasure and tried soundness 5 being inclined rather (though
I pronounce no irrevocable opinion upon the subject) to
approve of the use of singing in the church, that so by the
delights of the ear the weaker minds may be stimulated to
CHAP. XXXIV.] THE ALLUREMENTS OF SIGHT 257
a devotional frame. Yet when it happens to me to be more
moved by the singing than by what is sung, I confess myself
to have sinned criminally, and then I would rather not have
heard the singing. See now the condition I am in! Weep
with me, and weep for me, you who so control your inward
feelings as that good results ensue. As for you who do not
thus act, these things concern you not. But Thou, O Lord
my God, give ear, behold and see, and have mercy upon me,
and heal me, Thou, in whose sight I am become a puzzle
to myself 5 and "this is my infirmity."
CHAP,, xxxiv. Of the very dangerous allurements of the eyes; on
account of beauty of form y God, the Creator y is to be praised.
51. There remain the delights of these eyes of my flesh,
concerning which to make my confessions in the hearing of
the ears of Thy temple, those fraternal and devout ears;
and so to conclude the temptations of "the lust of the flesh"
which still assail me, groaning and desiring to be clothed
upon with my house from heaven. The eyes delight in fair
and varied forms, and bright and pleasing colours. Suffer
not these to take possession of my soul 5 let God rather possess
it, He who made these things "very good" indeed; yet is
He my good, not these. And these move me while awake,
during the day; nor is rest from them granted me, as there
is from the voices of melody, sometimes, in silence, from
them all. For that queen of colours, the light, flooding all
that we look upon, wherever I be during the day, gliding
past me in manifold forms, doth soothe me when busied
about other things, and not noticing it. And so strongly
doth it insinuate itself, that if it be suddenly withdrawn it is
looked for longingly, and if long absent doth sadden the
mind.
CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X,
52. O Thou Light, which Tobias saw, when, his eyes
being closed, he taught his son the way of life j himself going
before with the feet of charity, never going astray. Or that
which Isaac saw, when his fleshly "eyes were dim, so that
he could not see" by reason of old age 5 it was permitted him,
not knowingly to bless his sons, but in blessing them to know
them. Or that which Jacob saw, when he too, blind through
great age, with an enlightened heart, in the persons of his
own sons, threw light upon the races of the future people,
pre-signified in them 5 and laid his hands, mystically crossed^
upon his grandchildren by Joseph, not as their father, look-
ing outwardly, corrected them, but as he himself dis-
tinguished them. This is the light, the only one, and all
those who see and love it are one. But that corporeal light
of which I was speaking seasoneth the life of the world for
her blind lovers, with a tempting and fatal sweetness. But
they who know how to praise Thee for it, "O God, the
world's great Architect," take it up in Thy hymn, and are
not taken up with it in their sleep. Such desire I to be. I
resist seductions of the eyes, lest my feet with which I ad-
vance on Thy way be entangled j and I raise my invisible
eyes to Thee, that Thou wouldst be pleased to "pluck my
feet out of the net." Thou dost continually pluck them out,
for they are ensnared. Thou never ceasest to pluck them
out} but I constantly remain fast in the snares set all around
me 5 because Thou "that keepest Israel shall neither slumber
nor sleep."
53. What numberless things, made by divers arts and
manufactures, both in our apparel, shoes, vessels, and every
kind of work, in pictures, too, and sundry images, and these
going far beyond necessary and moderate use and holy signi-
fication, have men added for the enthralment of the eyes;
CHAP. XXXV.] THE LUST OF THE EYES 59
following outwardly what they make, forsaking inwardly
Him by whom they were made, yea, and destroying that
which they themselves were made! But I, O my God and
my Joy, do hence also sing a hymn unto Thee, and offer a
sacrifice of praise unto my Sanctifier, because those beautiful
patterns, which through the medium of men's souls are con-
veyed into their artistic hands, emanate from that Beauty
which is above our souls, which my soul sigheth after day
and night. But as for the makers and followers of those out-
ward beauties, they from thence derive the way of approv-
ing them, but not of using them. And though they see Him
not, yet is He there, that they might not go astray, but keep
their strength for Thee, and not dissipate it upon delicious
lassitudes. And I, though I both say and perceive this, im-
pede my course with such beauties, but Thou dost rescue me,
Lord, Thou dost rescue me 5 "for Thy loving-kindness is
before mine eyes." For I am taken miserably, and Thou
rescuest me mercifully 5 sometimes not perceiving it, in that
1 had come upon them hesitatingly 3 at other times with pain,
because I was held fast by them.
CHAP. xxxv. Another kind of temptation is curiosity, which is
stimulated by the "lust of the eyes"
54. In addition to this there is another form of tempta-
tion, more complex in its peril. For besides that con-
cupiscence of the flesh which lieth in the gratification of all
senses and pleasures, wherein its slaves who "are far from
Thee perish," there pertaineth to the soul, through the
same senses of the body, a certain vain and curious longing,
cloaked under the name of knowledge and learning, not of
having pleasure in the flesh, but of making experiments
through the flesh. This longing, since it originates in an ap-
26O CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X,
petite for knowledge, and the sight being the chief amongst
the senses in the acquisition of knowledge, is called in divine
language, a the lust of the eyes." For seeing belongeth
properly to the eyes 5 yet we apply this word to the other
senses also, when we exercise them in the search after knowl-
edge. For we do not say, Listen how it glows, smell how it
glistens, taste how it shines, or feel how it flashes, since all
these are said to be seen. And yet we say not only, See how
it shineth, which the eyes alone can perceive; but also, See
how it soundeth, see how it smelleth, see how it tasteth, see
how hard it is. And thus the general experience of the
senses, as was said before, is termed "the lust of the eyes,"
because the function of seeing, wherein the eyes hold the
pre-eminence, the other senses by way of similitude take
possession of, whensoever they seek out any knowledge.
55. But by this is it more clearly discerned, when pleasure
and when curiosity is pursued by the senses; for pleasure fol-
lows after objects that are beautiful, melodious, fragrant,
savoury, soft; but curiosity, for experiment's sake, seeks the
contrary of these, not with a view of undergoing uneasiness,
but from the passion of experimenting upon and knowing
them. For what pleasure is there to see, in a lacerated
corpse, that which makes you shudder? And yet if it lie
near, we flock thither, to be made sad, and to turn pale.
Even in sleep they fear lest they should see it. Just as if
when awake any one compelled them to go and see it, or
any report of its beauty had attracted them! Thus also is it
with the other senses, which it were tedious to pursue. From
this malady of curiosity are all those strange sights exhibited
in the theatre. Hence do we proceed to search out the
secret powers of nature (which is beside our end), which
to know profits not, and wherein men desire nothing but to
CHAP. XXXV.] MANIFOLD TEMPTATIONS OF CURIOSITY 26 1
know. Hence, too, with that same end of perverted knowl-
edge we consult magical arts. Hence, again, even in religion
itself, is God tempted, when signs and wonders are eagerly
asked of Him, not desired for any saving end, but to make
trial only.
56. In this so vast a wilderness, replete with snares and
dangers, lo, many of them have I lopped off, and expelled
from my heart, as Thou, O God of my salvation, hast en-
abled me to do. And yet when dare I say, since so many
things of this kind buzz around our daily life, when dare
I say that no such thing makes me intent to see it, or creates
in me vain solicitude? It is true that the theatres never now
carry me away, nor do I now care to know the courses of the
stars, nor hath my soul at any time consulted departed
spirits j all sacrilegious oaths I abhor. O Lord my God, to
whom I owe all humble and single-hearted service, with
what subtlety of suggestion does the enemy influence me to
require some sign from Thee! But by our King, and by our
pure and chaste country Jerusalem, I beseech Thee, that as
any consenting unto such thoughts is far from me, so may it
always be farther and farther. But when I entreat Thee for
the salvation of any, the end I aim at is far otherwise, and
Thou who doest what Thou wilt, givest and wilt give me
willingly to "follow" Thee.
57. Nevertheless, in how many most minute and con-
temptible things is our curiosity daily tempted, and who can
number how often we succumb? How often, when people
are narrating idle tales, do we begin by tolerating them, lest
we should give oflFence unto the weak 5 and then gradually
we listen willingly! I do not now-a-days go to the circus
to see a dog chasing a hare 5 but if by chance I pass such a
coursing in the fields, it possibly distracts me even from
CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X.
some serious thought, and draws me after it, not that I
turn the body of my beast aside, but the inclination of my
mind. And except Thou, by demonstrating to me my weak-
ness, dost speedily warn me, either through the sight itself,
by some reflection to rise to Thee, or wholly to despise and
pass it by, I, vain one, am absorbed by it. How is it, when
sitting at home, a lizard catching flies, or a spider entangling
them as they rush into her nets, oftentimes arrests me? Is
the feeling of curiosity not the same because these are such
tiny creatures? From them I proceed to praise Thee, the
wonderful Creator and Disposer of all things 5 but it is not
this that first attracts my attention. It is one thing to get up
quickly, and another not to fall, and of such things is my life
full ; and my only hope is in Thy exceeding great mercy. For
when this heart of ours is made the receptacle of such things,
and bears crowds of this abounding vanity, then are our
prayers often interrupted and disturbed thereby; and whilst
in Thy presence we direct the voice of our heart to Thine
ears, this so great a matter is broken off by the influx of I
know not what idle thoughts.
CHAP, xxxvi. A third kind Is "'pride" which is pleasing to man^
not to God.
58. Shall we, then, account this too amongst such things
as are to be lightly esteemed, or shall anything restore us
to hope, save Thy complete mercy, since Thou hast begun to
change us? And Thou knowest to what extent Thou hast
already changed me, Thou who first healest me of the lust
of vindicating myself, that so Thou mightest forgive all my
remaining "iniquities," and heal all my "diseases," and re-
deem my life from corruption, and crown me with "loving-
kindness and tender mercies," and satisfy my desire with
CHAP. XXXVI.] THE DESIRE TO BE FEARED AND LOVED 263
"good things 5 " who didst restrain my pride with Thy fear,
and subdue my neck to Thy "yoke." And now I bear it, and
it is "light" unto me, because so hast Thou promised, and
made it, and so in truth it was, though I knew it not, when
I feared to take it up. But, O Lord, Thou who alone
reignest without pride, because Thou art the only true Lord,
who hast no lord, hath this third kind of temptation left
me, or can it leave me during this life?
59. The desire to be feared and loved of men, with no
other view than that I may experience a joy therein which is
no joy, is a miserable life, and unseemly ostentation. Hence
especially it arises that we do not love Thee, nor devoutly
fear Thee. And therefore dost Thou resist the proud, but
givest grace unto the humble j and Thou thunderest upon
the ambitious designs of the world, and "the foundations of
the hills" tremble. Because now certain offices of human
society render it necessary to be loved and feared of men,
the adversary of our true blessedness presseth hard upon
us, everywhere scattering his snares of "well done, well
done 5" that while acquiring them eagerly, we may be caught
unawares, and disunite our joy from Thy truth, and fix it on
the deceits of menj and take pleasure in being loved and
feared, not for Thy sake, but in Thy stead, by which means,
being made like unto him, he may have them as his, not in
harmony of love, but in the fellowship of punishment j who
aspired to exalt his throne in the north, that dark and cold
they might serve him, imitating Thee in perverse and dis-
torted ways. But we, O Lord, lo, we are Thy "little flock 5"
do Thou possess us, stretch Thy wings over us, and let us
take refuge under them. Be Thou our glory 5 let us be
loved for Thy sake, and Thy word feared in us. They who
264 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X.
desire to be commended of men when Thou blamest, will
not be defended of men when Thou judgest; nor will they
be delivered when Thou condemnest. But when not the
sinner is praised in the desires of his soul, nor he blessed
who doeth unjustly, but a man is praised for some gift that
Thou hast bestowed upon him, and he is more gratified at
the praise for himself than that he possesses the gift for
which he is praised, such a one is praised while Thou blamest.
And better truly is he who praised than the one who was
praised. For the gift of God in man was pleasing to the one,
while the other was better pleased with the gift of man than
that of God.
CHAP, xxxvn. He h forcibly goaded on by the love of <praise.
60. By these temptations, O Lord, are we daily tried 5
yea, unceasingly are we tried. Our daily "furnace" is the
human tongue. And in this respect also dost Thou com-
mand us to be continent. Give what Thou commandest, and
command what Thou wilt. Regarding this matter, Thou
knowest the groans of my heart, and the rivers of mine eyes.
For I am not able to ascertain how far I am clean of this
plague, and I stand in great fear of my "secret faults," which
Thine eyes perceive, though mine do not. For in other
kinds of temptations I have some sort of power of examin-
ing myself j but in this, hardly any. For, both as regards
the pleasures of the flesh and an idle curiosity, I see how
far I have been able to hold my mind in check when I do
without them, either voluntarily or by reason of their not
being at hand; for then I inquire of myself how much more
or less troublesome it is to me not to have them. Riches
truly which are sought for in order that they may minister
to some one of these three "lusts," or to two, or the whole
CHAP. XXXVII.] WHEN WE MAY RECEIVE PRAISE 265
of them, if the mind be not able to see clearly whether, when
it hath them, it despiseth them, they may be cast on one side,
that so it may prove itself. But if we desire to test our power
of doing without praise, need we live ill, and that so flagi-
tiously and immoderately as that every one who knows us
shall detest us? What greater madness than this can be
either said or conceived? But if praise both is wont and
ought to be the companion of a good life and of good works,
we should as little forego its companionship as a good life
itself. But unless a thing be absent, I do not know whether
I shall be contented or troubled at being without it.
61. What, then, do I confess unto Thee, O Lord, in this
kind of temptation? What, save that I am delighted with
praise, but more with the truth itself than with praise? For
were I to have any choice, whether I had rather, being mad,
or astray on all things, be praised by all men, or, being firm
and well-assured in the truth, be blamed by all, I see which
I should choose. Yet would I be unwilling that the ap-
proval of another should even add to my joy for any good
I have. Yet I admit that it doth increase it, and, more
than that, that dispraise doth diminish it. And when I am
disquieted at this misery of mine, an excuse presents itself
to me, the value of which Thou, God, knowest, for it renders
me uncertain. For since it is not continency alone that Thou
hast enjoined upon us, that is, from what things to hold back
our love, but righteousness also, that is, upon what to bestow
it, and hast wished us to love not Thee only, but also our
neighbour, often, when gratified by intelligent praise, I ap-
pear to myself to be gratified by the proficiency or toward-
liness of my neighbour, and again to be sorry for evil in him
when I hear him dispraise either that which he understands
266 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X.
not, or is good. For I am sometimes grieved at mine own
praise, either when those things which I am displeased at
in myself be praised in me, or even lesser and trifling goods
are more valued than they should be. But, again, how do
I know whether I am thus affected, because I am unwilling
that he who praiseth me should differ from me concerning
myself not as being moved with consideration for him,
but because the same good things which please me in myself
are more pleasing to me when they also please another?
For, in a sort, I am not praised when my judgment of my-
self is not praised 5 since either those things which are dis-
pleasing to me are praised, or those more so which are less
pleasing to me. Am I then uncertain of myself in this
matter?
62. Behold, O Truth, in Thee do I see that I ought not
to be moved at my own praises for my own sake, but for
my neighbour's good. And whether it be so, in truth I
know not. For concerning this I know less of myself than
dost Thou. I beseech Thee now, O my God, to reveal to me
myself also, that I may confess unto my brethren, who are
to pray for me, what I find in myself weak. Once again let
me more diligently examine myself. If, in mine own
praise, I am moved with consideration for my neighbour,
why am I less moved if some other man be unjustly dis-
praised than if it be myself? Why am I more irritated at
that reproach which is cast upon myself, than at that which
is with equal injustice cast upon another in my presence?
Am I ignorant of this also? or does it remain that I deceive
myself, and do not the "truth" before Thee in my heart
and tongue? Put such madness far from me, O Lord, lest
my mouth be to me the oil of sinners, to anoint my head.
CHAP. XXXVIII.] VAIN-GLORY THE HIGHEST DANGER 267
CHAP, xxxvm. Vain-glory is the highest danger.
63. "I am poor and needy," yet better am I while in
secret groanings I displease myself, and seek for Thy mercy,
until what is lacking in me be renewed and made complete,
even up to that peace of which the eye of the proud is
ignorant. Yet the word which proceedeth out of the mouth
and actions known to men, have a most dangerous tempta-
tion from the love of praise, which, for the establishing of a
certain excellency of our own, gathers together solicited
suffrages. It tempts, even when within I reprove myself
for it, on the very ground that it is reproved} and often man
glories more vainly of the very scorn of vain-glory; where-
fore it is not any longer scorn of vain-glory whereof it
glories, for he does not truly contemn it when he inwardly
glories.
CHAP, xxxix. Of the vice of those who y while pleasing
s^ displease God.
64. Within also, within is another evil, arising out of the
same kind of temptation 5 whereby they become empty who
please themselves in themselves, although they please not, or
displease, or aim at pleasing others. But in pleasing them-
selves, they much displease Thee, not merely taking pleasure
in things not good as if they were good, but in Thy good
things as though they were their own; or even as if in
Thine, yet as though of their own merits; or even as if
though of Thy grace, yet not with friendly rejoicings, but as
envying that grace to others. In all these and similar perils
and labours Thou perceivest the trembling of my heart, and
I rather feel my wounds to be cured by Thee than not in-
flicted by me.
268 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X.
CHAP. XL. The only safe resting-'place for the soul is to be found
in God.
65. Where hast Thou not accompanied me, O Truth,
teaching me both what to avoid and what to desire, when I
submitted to Thee what I could perceive of sublunary things,
and asked Thy counsel? With my external senses, as I
could, I viewed the world, and noted the life which my body
deriyes from me, and these my senses. Thence I advanced
inwardly into the recesses of my memory, the manifold
rooms, wondrously full of multitudinous wealth j and I con-
sidered and was afraid, and could discern none of these
things without Thee, and found none of them to be Thee,
Nor was I myself the discoverer of these things, I, who
went over them all, and laboured to distinguish and to value
everything according to its dignity, accepting some things
upon the report of my senses, and questioning about others
which I felt to be mixed up with myself, distinguishing and
numbering the reporters themselves, and in the vast store-
house of my memory investigating some things, laying up
others, taking out others. Neither was I myself when I
did this (that is, that ability of mine whereby I did it), nor
was it Thou, for Thou art that never-failing light which I
took counsel of as to them all, whether they were what they
were, and what was their worth; and I heard Thee teaching
and commanding me. And this I do often; this is a delight
to me, and, as far as I can get relief from necessary duties,
to this gratification do I resort. Nor in all these which I
review when consulting Thee, find I a secure place for my
soul, save in Thee, into whom my scattered members may
be gathered together, and nothing of me depart from Thee.
And sometimes Thou dost introduce me to a most rare
CHAP. XLI.] HE ARRIVES AT SALVATION
affection, inwardly, to an inexplicable sweetness, which ? if
it should be perfected in me, I know not to what point that
life might not arrive. But by these wretched weights of
mine do I relapse into these things, and am sucked in by my
old customs, and am held, and sorrow much, yet am much
held. To such an extent does the burden of habit press us
down. In this way I can be, but will not j in that I will, but
cannot, on both ways miserable.
CHAP. XLI. Having conquered his triple desire^ he arrives at sal"
vation.
66. And thus have I reflected upon the weariness of my
sins, in that threefold "lust," and have invoked Thy right
hand to my aid. For with a wounded heart have I seen Thy
brightness, and being beaten back I exclaimed, "Who can
attain unto it?" "I am cut off from before Thine eyes."
Thou art the Truth, who presidest over all things, but I,
through my covetousness, wished not to lose Thee, but with
Thee wished to possess a lie; as no one wishes so to speak
falsely as himself to be ignorant of the truth. So then I lost
Thee, because Thou deignest not to be enjoyed with a lie.
CHAP. XLII. In what manner many sought the Mediator.
67. Whom could I find to reconcile me to Thee? Was I
to solicit the angels? By what prayer? By what sacraments?
Many striving to return unto Thee, and not able of them-
selves, have, as I am told, tried this, and have fallen into a
longing for curious visions, and were held worthy to be
deceived. For they, being exalted, sought Thee by the pride
of learning, thrusting themselves forward rather than beat-
ing their breasts, and so by correspondence of heart drew
unto themselves the princes of the air, the conspirators and
27O CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X.
companions in pride, by whom, through the power of magic,
they were deceived, seeking a mediator by whom they might
be cleansed 5 but none was there. For the devil it was trans-
forming himself into an angel of light. And he much
allured proud flesh, in that he had no fleshly body. For
they were mortal, and sinful; but Thou, O Lord, to whom
they arrogantly sought to be reconciled, art immortal, and
sinless. But a mediator between God and man ought to
have something like unto God, and something like unto
man 5 lest being in both like unto man, he should be far from
God; or if in both like unto God, he should be far from
man, and so should not be a mediator. That deceitful medi-
ator, then, by whom in Thy secret judgments pride deserved
to be deceived, hath one thing in common with man, that is,
sin; another he would appear to have with God, and, not
being clothed with mortality of flesh, would boast that he
was immortal. But since "the wages of sin is death," this
hath he in common with men, that together with them he
should be condemned to death.
CHAP. XLin. That Jesus Christ > at the same time God and man y
is the true and most efficacious Mediator.
68. But the true Mediator, whom in Thy secret mercy
Thou hast pointed out to the humble, and didst send, that
by His example also they might learn the same humility
that "Mediator between God and men, the man Christ
Jesus," appeared between mortal sinners and the immortal
Just One mortal with men, just with God; that because
the reward of righteousness is life and peace, He might, by
righteousness conjoined with God, cancel the death of justi-
fied sinners, which He willed to have in common with them.
Hence He was pointed out to holy men of old; to the intent
CHAP. XLIII/j THE ATONEMENT 27 1
that they, through faith in His Passion to come, even as we
through faith in that which is past, might be saved. For as
man He was Mediator; but as the Word He was not be-
tween, because equal to God, and God with God, and to-
gether with the Holy Spirit one God.
69. How hast Thou loved us, O good Father, who
sparedst not Thine only Son, but deliveredst Him up for us
wicked ones! How hast Thou loved us, for whom He, who
thought it no robbery to be equal with Thee, "became
obedient unto death, even the death of the cross 5" He alone
"free among the dead, 33 that had power to lay down His
life, and power to take it again, for us was He unto Thee
both Victor and Victim, and the Victor as being the Victim 5
for us was He unto Thee both Priest and Sacrifice, and
Priest as being the Sacrifice ; of slaves making us Thy sons,
by being born of Thee, and serving us. Rightly, then, is
my hope strongly fixed on Him, that Thou wilt heal all my
diseases by Him who sitteth at Thy right hand and maketh
intercession for us; else should I utterly despair. For nu-
merous and great are my infirmities, yea, numerous and
great are they; but Thy medicine is greater. We might
think that Thy Word was removed from union with man,
and despair of ourselves had He not been "made flesh and
dwelt among us."
70. Terrified by my sins and the load of my misery, I
had resolved in my heart, and meditated flight into the
wilderness; but Thou didst forbid me, and didst strengthen
me, saying, therefore, Christ "died for all, that they which
live should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto
Him which died for them." Behold, O Lord, I cast my care
upon Thee, that I may live, and "behold wondrous things
out of Thy law." Thou knowest my unskilfulness and my
272. CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK X,
infirmities j teach me, and heal me. Thine only Son He
a in whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowl-
edge" hath redeemed me with His blood. Let not the
proud speak evil of me, because I consider my ransom, and
eat and drink, and distribute 5 and poor, desire to be satisfied
from Him, together with those who eat and are satisfied,
and they praise the Lord that seek Him.
BOOK ELEVENTH
THE DESIGN OF HIS CONFESSIONS BEING DECLARED, HE SEEKS FROM GOD
THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE HOLY SCRIPTURES, AND BEGINS TO EXPOUND
THE WORDS OF GENESIS I. 1, CONCERNING THE CREATION OF THE WORLD.
THE QUESTIONS OF RASH DISPUTERS BEING REFUTED, "WHAT DID GOD
BEFORE HE CREATED THE WORLD?" THAT HE MIGHT THE BETTER OVER-
COME HIS OPPONENTS, HE ADDS A COPIOUS DISQUISITION CONCERNING
TIME.
CHAP, I. By confession he desires to stimulate towards God His
own love and that of his readers.
I. /^\ LORD, since eternity is Thine, art Thou ignorant
\~J of the things which I say unto Thee? Or seest
Thou at the time that which cometh to pass in time? Why,
therefore, do I place before Thee so many relations of
things? Not surely that Thou mightest know them through
me, but that I may awaken my own love and that of my
readers towards Thee, that we may all say, "Great is the
Lord, and greatly to be praised." I have already said, and
shall say, for the love of Thy love do I this. For we also
pray, and yet Truth says, "Your Father knoweth what things
ye have need of before ye ask Him." Therefore do we
make known unto Thee our love, in confessing unto Thee our
own miseries and Thy mercies upon us, that Thou mayest
free us altogether, since Thou hast begun, that we may cease
to be wretched in ourselves, and that we may be blessed in
Thee; since Thou hast called us, that we may be poor in
spirit, and meek, and mourners, and hungering and athirst
after righteousness, and merciful, and pure in heart, and
peacemakers. Behold, I have told unto Thee many things,
which I could and which I would, for Thou first wouldcst
273
274 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK. XI.
that I should confess unto Thee, the Lord my God, for
Thou art good, since Thy "mercy endureth for ever."
CHAP. II. He begs of God, that through the Holy Scriptures he
may be led to truth.
1. But when shall I suffice with the tongue of my pen to
express all Thy exhortations, and all Thy terrors, and com-
forts, and guidances, whereby Thou hast led me to preach
Thy Word and to dispense Thy Sacrament unto Thy people?
And if I suffice to utter these things in order, the drops of
time are dear to me. Long time have I burned to meditate
in Thy law, and in it to confess to Thee my knowledge and
ignorance, the beginning of Thine enlightening, and the re-
mains of my darkness, until infirmity be swallowed up by
strength. And I would not that to aught else those hours
should flow away, which I find free from the necessities of
refreshing my body, and the care of my mind, and of the
service which we owe to men, and which, though we owe not,
even yet we pay,
3. O Lord my God, hear my prayer, and let Thy mercy
regard my longing, since it burns not for myself alone, but
because it desires to benefit brotherly charity 5 and Thou seest
into my heart, that so it is. I would sacrifice to Thee the
service of my thought and tongue 5 and do Thou give what
I may offer unto Thee. For "I am poor and needy," Thou
rich unto all that call upon Thee, who free from care carest
for us. Circumcise from all rashness and from all lying my
inward and outward lips. Let Thy Scriptures be my chaste
delights. Neither let me be deceived in them, nor deceive
out of them. Lord, hear and pity, O Lord my God, light
of the blind, and strength of the weakj even also light of
those that see, and strength of the strong, hearken unto my
CHAP. II.] THE RIGHT USE OF SCRIPTURE 275
soul, and hear it crying "out of the depths." For unless
Thine ears be present in the depths also, whither shall we
go? whither shall we cry? "The day is Thine, and the night
also is Thine. 53 At Thy nod the moments flee by. Grant
thereof space for our meditations amongst the hidden things
of Thy law, nor close it against us who knock. For not in
vain hast Thou willed that the obscure secret of so many
pages should be written. Nor is it that those forests have not
their harts, betaking themselves therein, and ranging, and
walking, and feeding, lying down, and ruminating. Perfect
me, O Lord, and reveal them unto me. Behold, Thy voice
is my joy, Thy voice surpasseth the abundance of pleasures.
Give that which I love, for I do love 3 and this hast Thou
given. Abandon not Thine own gifts, nor despise Thy grass
that thirsteth. Let me confess unto Thee whatsoever I shall
have found in Thy books, and let me hear the voice of praise,
and let me imbibe Thee, and reflect on the wonderful things
of Thy law 5 even from the beginning, wherein Thou madest
the heaven and the earth, unto the everlasting kingdom of
Thy holy city that is with Thee.
4. Lord, have mercy on me and hear my desire. For I
think that it is not of the earth, nor of gold and silver, and
precious stones, nor gorgeous apparel, nor honours and pow-
ers, nor the pleasures of the flesh, nor necessaries for the
body, and this life of our pilgrimage 5 all which are added
to those that seek Thy kingdom and Thy righteousness. Be-
hold, O Lord my God, whence is my desire. The unright-
eous have told me of delights, but not such as Thy law, O
Lord. Behold whence is my desire. Behold, Father, look
and see, and approve; and let it be pleasing in the sight of
Thy mercy, that I may find grace before Thee, that the secret
things of Thy Word may be opened unto me when I knock*
276 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK. XI.
I beseech, by our Lord Jesus Christ, Thy Son, "the Man
of Thy right hand, the Son of man, whom Thou madest
strong for Thyself," as Thy Mediator and ours, through
whom Thou hast sought us, although not seeking Thee, but
didst seek us that we might seek Thee, Thy Word through
whom Thou hast made all things, and amongst them me
also, Thy Only-begotten, through whom Thou hast called
to adoption the believing people, and therein me also. I be-
seech Thee through Him, who sitteth at Thy right hand, and
"maketh intercession for us," "in whom are hid all treasures
of wisdom and knowledge." Him do I seek in Thy books.
Of Him did Moses write} this saith Himself j this saith the
Truth.
CHAP. nr. Re begins from the creation of the world y not under-
standing the Hebrew text.
5. Let me hear and understand how in the beginning
Thou didst make the heaven and the earth. Moses wrote
this 5 he wrote and departed, passed hence from Thee to
Thee. Nor now is he before me; for if he were I would hold
him, and ask him, and would adjure him by Thee that he
would open unto me these things, and I would lend the ears
of my body to the sounds bursting forth from his mouth.
And should he speak in the Hebrew tongue, in vain would
it beat on my senses, nor would aught touch my mind 5 but if
in Latin, I should know what he said. But whence should
I know whether he said what was true? But if I knew this
even, should I know it from him? Verily within me, within
in the chamber of my thought, Truth, neither Hebrew, nor
Greek, nor Latin, nor barbarian, without the organs of voice
and tongue, without the sound of syllables, would say, "He
speaks the truth," and I, forthwith assured of it, confidently
CHAP. IV.] HEAVEN AND EARTH BEAR WITNESS 277
would say unto that man of Thine, "Thou speakest the
truth." As, then, I cannot inquire of him, I beseech Thee,
Thee, O Truth, full of whom he spake truth, Thee, my
God, I beseech, forgive my sins; and do Thou, who didst
give to that Thy servant to speak these things, grant to me
also to understand them.
CHAP. iv. Heaven and earth cry out that they hceve been created
by God.
6. Behold, the heaven and earth are; they proclaim that
they were made, for they are changed and varied. Whereas
whatsoever hath not been made, and yet hath being, hath
nothing in it which there was not before; this is what It is
to be changed and varied. They also proclaim that they
made not themselves; "therefore we are, because we have
been made; we were not therefore before we were, so that
we could have made ourselves." And the voice of those that
speak is in itself an evidence. Thou, therefore, Lord, didst
make these things; Thou who art beautiful, for they are
beautiful; Thou who art good, for they are good; Thou who
art, for they are. Nor even so are they beautiful, nor good,
nor are they, as Thou their Creator art; compared with
whom they are neither beautiful, nor good, nor are at all.
These things we know, thanks be to Thee. And our knowl-
edge, compared with Thy knowledge, is ignorance.
CHAP. v.God created the world not from any certain matter > but
In His own word.
7. But how didst Thou make the heaven and the earth,
and what was the instrument of Thy so mighty work? For
it was not as a human worker fashioning body from body,
according to the fancy of his mind, in somewise able to assign
278 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XI.
a form which it perceives in itself by its inner eye. And
whence should he be able to do this, hadst not Thou made
that mind? And he assigns to it already existing, and as it
were having a being, a form, as clay, or stone, or wood, or
gold, or such like. And whence should these things be, hadst
not Thou appointed them? Thou didst make for the work-
man his body, Thou the mind commanding the limbs,
Thou the matter whereof he makes anything, Thou the
capacity whereby he may apprehend his art, and see within
what he may do without, Thou the sense of his body, by
which, as by an interpreter, he may from mind unto matter
convey that which he doeth, and report to his mind what
may have been done, that it within may consult the truth,
presiding over itself, whether it be well done. All these
things praise Thee, the Creator of all. But how dost Thou
make them? How, O God, didst Thou make heaven and
earth? Truly, neither in the heaven nor in the earth didst
Thou make heaven and earth; nor in the air, nor in the
waters, since these also belong to the heaven and the earth;
nor in the whole world didst Thou make the whole world;
because there was no place wherein it could be made before
it was made, that it might be; nor didst Thou hold anything
in Thy hand wherewith to make heaven and earth. For
whence couldest Thou have what Thou hadst not made,
whereof to make anything? For what is, save because Thou
art? Therefore Thou didst speak and they were made, and
in Thy Word Thou madest these things.
CHAP. vi. Jle did not y however y create It by a sounding and f ass-
ing word.
8. But how didst Thou speak? Was it in that manner in
which the voice came from the cloud, saying, "This is my
CHAP. VII.] GOD THE CREATOR 279
beloved Son"? For that voice was uttered and passed away,
began and ended. The syllables sounded and passed by,
the second after the first, the third after the second, and
thence in order, until the last after the rest, and silence after
the last. Hence it is clear and plain that the motion of a crea-
ture expressed it, itself temporal, obeying Thy eternal will.
And these thy words formed at the time, the outer ear con-
veyed to the intelligent mind, whose inner ear lay attentive
to Thy eternal word. But it compared these words sounding
in time with Thy eternal word in silence, and said, "It is dif-
ferent, very different. These words are far beneath me, nor
are they, since they flee and pass away 3 but the Word of my
Lord remaineth above me for ever." If, then, in sounding
and fleeting words Thou didst say that heaven and earth
should be made, and didst thus make heaven and earth, there
was already a corporeal creature before heaven and earth by
whose temporal motions that voice might take its course in
time. But there was nothing corporeal before heaven and
earth; or if there were, certainly Thou without a transitory
voice hadst created that whence Thou wouldest make the
passing voice, by which to say that the heaven and the earth
should be made. For whatsoever that were of which such
a voice was made, unless it were made by Thee, it could not
be at all. By what word of Thine was it decreed that a body
might be made, whereby these words might be made?
CHAP. vil. By Hts co-eternal Word He speaks , and all things are
done.
9. Thou callest us, therefore, to understand the Word,
God with Thee, God, which is spoken eternally, and by it
are all things spoken eternally. For what was spoken was
not finished, and another spoken until all were spoken 5 but
28O CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XI*
all things at once and for ever. For otherwise have we time
and change, and not a true eternity, nor a true immortality.
This I know, O my God, and give thanks. I know, I con-
fess to Thee, O Lord, and whosoever is not unthankful to
certain truth, knows and blesses Thee with me. We know y
O Lord, we know; since in proportion as anything is not what
it was, and is what it Was not, in that proportion does it die
and arise. Not anything, therefore, of Thy Word giveth
place and cometh into place again, because it is truly immor-
tal and eternal. And, therefore, unto the Word co-eternal
with Thee, Thou dost at once and for ever say all that Thou
dost say; and whatever Thou sayest shall be made, is made;
nor dost Thou make otherwise than by speaking; yet all
things are not made both together and everlasting which
Thou makest by speaking.
CHAP. vin. That Word itself is the beginning of all things^ in
the which we are instructed as to evangelical truth.
10. Why is this, I beseech Thee, O Lord my God? I
see it, however; but how I shall express it, I know not, unless
that everything which begins to be and ceases to be, then be-
gins and ceases when in Thy eternal Reason it is known that
it ought to begin or cease where nothing beginneth or ceaseth.
The same is Thy Word, which is also "the Beginning," be-
cause also It speaketh unto us. Thus, in the gospel He speak-
eth through the flesh; and this sounded outwardly in the
ears of men, that it might be believed and sought inwardly,,
and that it might be found in the eternal Truth, where the
good and only Master teacheth all His disciples. There, O
Lord, I hear Thy voice, the voice of one speaking unto me,
since He speaketh unto us who teacheth us. But He that
teacheth us not, although He speaketh, speaketh not to us.
CHAP. IX.] CHRIST "THE BEGINNING" 28 1
Moreover, who teacheth us, unless it be the immutable
Truth? For even when we are admonished through a
changeable creature, we are led to the Truth immutable.
There we learn truly while we stand and hear Him, and re-
rejoice greatly "because of the Bridegroom's voice," restoring
us to that whence we are. And, therefore, the Beginning, be-
cause unless It remained, there would not, where we strayed,
be whither to return. But when we return from error, it is by
knowing that we return. But that we may know, He teach-
eth us, because He is the Beginning and speaketh unto us.
CHAP. ix. Wisdom and the Beginning.
ii. In this Beginning, O God, hast Thou made heaven
and earth, in Thy Word, in Thy Son, in Thy Power, in
Thy Wisdom, in Thy Truth, wondrously speaking and won-
drously making. Who shall comprehend? who shall relate
it? What is that which shines through me, and strikes my
heart without injury, and I both shudder and burn? I shud-
der inasmuch as I am unlike it j and I burn inasmuch as I am
like it. It is Wisdom itself that shines through me, clearing
my cloudiness, which again overwhelms me, fainting from
it, in the darkness and amount of my punishment. For my
strength is brought down in need, so that I cannot endure
my blessings, until Thou, O Lord, who hast been gracious
to all mine iniquities, heal also all mine infirmities 5 because
Thou shalt also redeem my life from corruption, and crown
me with Thy loving-kindness and mercy, and shalt satisfy
my desire with good things because my youth shall be re-
newed like the eagle's. For by hope we are saved 5 and
through patience we await Thy promises. Let him that is
able hear Thee discoursing within. I will with confidence cry
out from Thy oracle, How wonderful are Thy works, O
282 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XI
Lord, in Wisdom hast Thou made them all. And this Wis-
dom is the Beginning, and in that Beginning hast Thoi
made heaven and earth.
CHAP. x. The rashness of those who Inquire what God did befort
He created, heaven and earth.
12. Lo, are they not full of their ancient way, who say to
us, "What was God doing before He made heaven and
earth? For if," say they, "He were unoccupied, and did
nothing, why does He not for ever also, and from hence-
forth, cease from working, as in times past He did? For if
any new motion has arisen in God, and a new will, to- form
a creature which He had never before formed, however can
that be a true eternity where there ariseth a will which was
not before? For the will of God is not a creature, but before
the creature $ because nothing could be created unless the will
of the Creator were before it. The will of God, therefore,
pertaineth to His very Substance. But if anything hath
arisen in the Substance of God which was not before, that
Substance is not truly called eternal. But if it was the eternal
will of God that the creature should be ? why was not the crea-
ture also from eternity ?"
CHAP. xi. They who ask this have not as yet known the eternity
of God, which is exempt from the relation of time.
13. Those who say these things do not as yet understand
Thee, O Thou Wisdom of God, Thou light of souls 5 not as
yet do they understand how these things be made which are
made by and in Thee. They even endeavour to comprehend
things eternal ; but as yet their heart flieth about in the past
and future motions of things, and is still wavering. Who
shall hold it and fix it, that it may rest a little, and by de-
CHAP. XII,] ON COMPREHENDING THE ETERNAL 283
grees catch the glory of that ever-standing eternity, and com-
pare it with the times which never stand, and see that it is
incomparable; and that a long time cannot become long, save
from the many motions that pass by, which cannot at the
same instant be prolonged; but that in the Eternal nothing
passeth away, but that the whole is present; but no time is
wholly present; and let him see that all time past is forced
on by the future, and that all the future f olloweth from the
past, and that all, both past and future, is created and issues
from that which is always present? Who will hold the heart
of man, that it may stand still, and see how the still-standing
eternity, itself neither future nor past, uttereth the times
future and past? Can my hand accomplish this, or the hand
of my mouth by persuasion bring about a thing so great?
CHAP. XH. What God did before the creation of the world.
14. Behold, I answer to him who asks, "What was God
doing before He made heaven and earth?" I answer not, as
a certain person is reported to have done facetiously (avoid-
ing the pressure of the question), "He was preparing hell,"
saith he, "for those who pry into mysteries." It is one thing
to perceive, another to laugh, these things I answer not.
For more willingly would I have answered, "I know not
what I know not," than that I should make him a laughing-
stock who asketh deep things, and gain praise as one who
answereth false things. But I say that Thou, our God, art
the Creator of every creature; and if by the term "heaven
and earth" every creature is understood, I boldly say, "That
before God made heaven and earth, He made not anything.
For if He did, what did He make unless the creature?" And
would that I knew whatever I desire to know to my advan-
284 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XI
tage, as I know that no creature was made before any creature
was made.
CHAP. xiil. "Before the times created, by God, times were not.
1 5. But if the roving thought of any one should wander
through the images of bygone time, and wonder that Thou,
the God Almighty, and All-creating, and All-sustaining, the
Architect of heaven and earth, didst for innumerable ages
refrain from so great a work before Thou wouldst make it,
let him awake and consider that he wonders at false things.
For whence could innumerable ages pass by which Thou
didst not make, since Thou art the Author and Creator of
all ages? Or what times should those be which were not
made by Thee? Or how should they pass by if they had not
been? Since, therefore, Thou art the Creator of all times, if
any time was before Thou madest heaven and earth, why is
it said that Thou didst refrain from working? For that very
time Thou madest, nor could times pass by before Thou
madest times. But if before heaven and earth there was no
time, why is it asked, What didst Thou then? For there was
no "then" when time was not.
1 6. Nor dost Thou by time precede time 5 else wouldest
not Thou precede all times. But in the excellency of an
ever-present eternity, Thou precedest all times past, and sur-
vivest all future times, because they are future, and when
they have come they will be past; but "Thou art the same,
and Thy years shall have no end." Thy years neither go
nor come 5 but ours both go and come, that all may come.
All Thy years stand at once, since they do stand ; nor were
they when departing excluded by coming years, because they
pass not away; but all these of ours shall be when all shall
CHAP. XIV.] 000*5 TO-DAY IS ETERNITY _
cease to be. Thy years are one day, and Thy day is not
daily, but to-day; because Thy to-day yields not with to-mor-
row, for neither doth it follow yesterday. Thy to-day is
eternity; therefore didst Thou beget the Co-eternal, to whom
Thou saidst, "This day have I begotten Thee." Thou hast
made all time; and before all times Thou art, nor in any time
was there not time.
CHAP, xiv. Neither time fast nor future > but the ^resenty only
really is.
17. At no time, therefore, hadst Thou not made any-
thing, because Thou hadst made time itself. And no times
are co-eternal with Thee, because Thou remainest for ever;
but should these continue, they would not be times. For
what is time? Who can easily and briefly explain it? Who
even in thought can comprehend it, even to the pronouncing
of a word concerning it? But what in speaking do we refer
to more familiarly and knowingly than time? And certainly
we understand when we speak of it; we understand also when
we hear it spoken of by another. What, then, is time? If
no one ask of me, I know; if I wish to explain to him who
asks, I know not. Yet I say with confidence, that I know
that if nothing passed away, there would not be past time;
and if nothing were coming, there would not be future time;
and if nothing were, there would not be present time. Those
two times, therefore, past and future, how are they, when
even the past now is not, and the future is not as yet? But
should the present be always present, and should it not pass
into time past, time truly it could not be, but eternity. If,
then, time present if it be time only comes into existence
because it passes into time past, how do we say that even this
is, whose cause of being is that it shall not be namely, so
286 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK. XI.
that we cannot truly say that time is, unless because it tends
not to be?
CHAP. xv. There is only a moment of present time*
1 8. And yet we say that "time is long and time is short 5"
nor do we speak of this save of time past and future. A long
time past, for example, we call a hundred years ago; in like
manner a long time to come, a hundred years hence. But a
short time past we call, say, ten days ago; and a short time
to come, ten days hence. But in what sense is that long or
short which is not? For the past is not now, and the future
is not yet. Therefore let us not say, "It is long;" but let us
say of the past, "It hath been long," and of the future, "It
will be long." O my Lord, my light, shall not even here
Thy truth deride man? For that past time which was long,
was it long when it was already past, or when it was as yet
present? For then it might be long when there was that
which could be long, but when past it no longer was ; where-
fore that could not be long which was not at all. Let us not,
therefore, say, "Time past hath been long;" for we shall
not find what may have been long, seeing that since it was
past it is not ; but let us say "that present time was long, be-
cause when it was present it was long." For it had not as yet
passed away so as not to be, and therefore there was that
which could be long. But after it passed, that ceased also to
be long which ceased to be.
19. Let us therefore see, O human soul, whether present
time can be long; for to thee is it given to perceive and to
measure periods of time. What wilt thou reply to me? Is
a hundred years when present a long time? See, first,
whether a hundred years can be present. For if the first year
CHAP. XV.] PRESENT TIME ONLY FOR A MOMENT 287
of these is current, that is present, but the other ninety and
nine are future, and therefore they are not as yet. But if
the second year is current, one is already past, the other pres-
ent, the rest future. And thus, if we fix on any middle
year of this hundred as present, those before it are past, those
after it are future 5 wherefore a hundred years cannot be
present. See at least whether that year itself which is cur-
rent can be present. For if its first month be current, the
rest are future 5 if the second, the first hath already passed,
and the remainder are not yet. Therefore neither is the year
which is current as a whole present 5 and if it is not present
as a whole, then the year is not present. For twelve months
make the year, of which each individual month which is cur-
rent is itself present, but the rest are either past or future.
Although neither is that month which is current present, but
one day only: if the first, the rest being to come, if the last,
the rest being past 5 if any of the middle, then between past
and future.
20. Behold, the present time, which alone we found could
be called long, is abridged to the space scarcely of one day.
But let us discuss even that, for there is not one day present
as a whole. For it is made up of f our-and-twenty hours of
night and day, whereof the first hath the rest future, the last
hath them past, but any one of the intervening hath those
before it past, those after it future. And that one hour pass-
eth away in fleeting particles. Whatever of it hath flown
away is past, whatever remaineth is future. If any portion
of time be conceived which cannot now be divided into even
the minutest particles of moments, this only is that which
may be called present 5 which, however, flies so rapidly from
future to past, that it cannot be extended by any delay. For
288 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK. XI*
if it be extended, it is divided into the past and future 5 but
the present hath no space. Where, therefore, is the time
which we may call long? Is it future? Indeed we do not
say, "It is long," because it is not yet, so as to be long ; but
we say, "It will be long." When, then, will it be? For if
even then, since as yet it is future, it will not be long, because
what may be long is not as yet; but it shall be long, when
from the future, which as yet is not, it shall already have
begun to be, and will have become present, so that there could
be that which may be long; then doth the present time cry
out in the words above that it cannot be long.
CHAP, xvi, Time can only be perceived or measured while It is
passing.
21. And yet, O Lord, we perceive intervals of times, and
we compare them with themselves, and we say some are
longer, others shorter. We even measure by how much
shorter or longer this time may be than that j and we answer,
"That this is double or treble, while that is but once, or only
as much as that." But we measure times passing when we
measure them by perceiving them 5 but past times, which now
are not, or future times, which as yet are not, who can meas-
ure them? Unless, perchance, any one will dare to say,
that that can be measured which is not. When, therefore,
time is passing, it can be perceived and measured 3 but when
it has passed, it cannot, since it is not.
CHAP. xvrr. Nevertheless there is time 'past and future.
22. I ask, Father, I do not affirm. O my God, rule and
guide me. Who is there who can say to me that there are
not three times (as we learned when boys, and as we have
taught boys), the past, present, and future, but only present,
CHAP. XVIII.] WE THINK OF THINGS AS PRESENT 289
because these two are not? Or are they also, but when from
future it becometh present, cometh it forth from some secret
place, and when from the present it becometh past, doth it
retire into anything secret? For where have they, who have
foretold future things, seen these things, if as yet they are
not? For that which is not cannot be seen. And they who
relate things past could not relate them as true, did they not
perceive them in their mind. Which things, if they were
not, they could in no wise be discerned. There are therefore
things both future and past.
CHAP. xvin. Past and future times cannot be thought of but as
present.
2,3. Suffer me, O Lord, to seek further; O my Hope, let
not my purpose be confounded. For if there are times past
and future, I desire to know where they are. But if as yet
I do not succeed, I still know, wherever they are, that they
are not there as future or past, but as present. For if there
also they be future, they are not as yet there; if even there
they be past, they are no longer there. Wheresoever, there-
fore, they are, whatsoever they are, they are only so as pres-
ent. Although past things are related as true, they are drawn
out from the memory, not the things themselves, which
have passed, but the words conceived from the images of the
things which they have formed in the mind as footprints in
their passage through the senses. My childhood, indeed,
which no longer is, is in time past, which now is not; but
when I call to mind its image, and speak of it, I behold it in
the present, because it is as yet in my memory. Whether
there be a like cause of foretelling future things, that of
things which as yet are not the images may be perceived as
29O CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XI.
already existing, I confess, my God, I know not. This cer-
tainly I know, that we generally think before on our future
actions, and that this premeditation is present; but that the
action whereon we premeditate is not yet, because it is fu-
ture; which when we shall have entered upon, and have
begun to do that which we were premeditating, then shall
that action be, because then it is not future, but present.
24. In whatever manner, therefore, this secret preconcep-
tion of future things may be, nothing can be seen, save what
is. But what now is is not future, but present. When, there-
fore, they say that things future are seen, it is not themselves,
which as yet are not (that is, which are future) ; but their
causes or their signs perhaps are seen, the which already are.
Therefore, to those already beholding them, they are not
future, but present, from which future things conceived in
the mind are foretold. Which conceptions again now are,
and they who foretell those things behold these conceptions
present before them. Let now so multitudinous a variety
of things afford me some example. I behold daybreak; I
foretell that the sun is about to rise. That which I behold
is present; what I foretell is future, not that the sun is
future, which already is; but his rising, which is not yet. Yet
even its rising I could not predict unless I had an image of it
in my mind, as now I have while I speak. But that dawn
which I see in the sky is not the rising of the sun, although it
may go before it, nor that imagination in my mind; which
two are seen as present, that the other which is future may
be foretold. Future things, therefore, are not as yet; and
if they are not as yet, they are not. And if they are not, they
cannot be seen at all; but they can be foretold from things
present which now are, and are seen.
CHAP. XIX.] THE DESIGNATION OF TIME 29!
CHAP. xix. We are ignorant in what manner God teaches future
things,
25. Thou, therefore. Ruler of Thy creatures, what is the
method by which Thou teachest souls those things which are
future? For Thou hast taught Thy prophets. What is that
way by which Thou, to whom nothing is future, dost teach
future things; or rather of future things dost teach present?
For what is not, of a certainty cannot be taught. Too far is
this way from my view; it is too mighty for me, I cannot
attain unto it; but by Thee I shall be enabled, when Thou
shalt have granted it, sweet light of my hidden eyes.
CHAP. xx. In what manner time may properly be designated*
26. But what now is manifest and clear is, that neither
are there future nor past things. Nor is it fitly said, "There
are three times, past, present, and future;" but perchance it
might be fitly said, "There are three times; a present of
things past, a present of things present, and a present of
things future." For these three do somehow exist in the
soul, and otherwise I see them not: present of things past,
memory; present of things present, sight; present of things
future, expectation. If of these things we are permitted to
speak, I see three times, and I grant there are three. It may
also be said, "There are three times, past, present, and fu-
ture," as usage falsely has it. See, I trouble not, nor gainsay,
nor reprove; provided always that which is said may be un-
derstood, that neither the future, nor that which is past, now
is. For there are but few things which we speak properly,
many things improperly} but what we may wish to say is un-
derstood.
292 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK. XI.
CHAP. XXI. How time may be measured.
27. I have just now said, then, that we measure times as
they pass, that we may be able to say that this time is twice
as much as that one, or that this is only as much as that, and
so of any other of the parts of time which we are able
to tell by measuring. Wherefore, as I said, we measure
times as they pass. And if any one should ask me, "Whence
dost thou know?" I can answer, "I know, because we meas-
ure; nor can we measure things that are not; and things past
and future are not." But how do we measure present time,
since it hath not space? It is measured while it passeth; but
when it shall have passed, it is not measured ; for there will
not be aught that can be measured. But whence, in what
way, and whither doth it pass while it is being measured?
Whence, but from the future? Which way, save through
the present? Whither, but into the past? From that, there-
fore, which as yet is not, through that which hath no space,
into that which now is not. But what do we measure, unless
time in some space? For we say not single, and double, and
triple and equal, or in any other way in which we speak of
time, unless with respect to the spaces of times. In what
space, then, do we measure passing time? Is it in the future,
whence it passeth over? But what yet we measure not, is not.
Or is it in the present, by which it passeth? But no space,
we do not measure. Or in the past, whither it passeth? But
that which is not now, we measure not.
CHAP. XXII, He -prays God that He would explain this most
entangled enigma.
28. My soul yearns to know this most entangled enigma.
Forbear to shut up, O Lord my God, good Father, through
CHAP. XXIII.] HE ASKS GOD TO TEACH HIM 293
Christ I beseech Thee, forbear to shut up these things, both
usual and hidden, from my desire, that it may be hindered
from penetrating them; but let them dawn through Thy en-
lightening mercy, O Lord. Of whom shall I inquire con-
cerning these things? And to whom shall I with more
advantage confess my ignorance than to Thee, to whom these
my studies, so vehemently kindled towards Thy Scriptures,
are not troublesome? Give that which I love; for I do love,
and this hast Thou given me. Give, Father, who truly know-
est to give good gifts unto Thy children. Give, since I have
undertaken to know, and trouble is before me until Thou
dost open it. Through Christ, I beseech Thee, in His name,
Holy of Holies, let no man interrupt me. For I believed,
and therefore do I speak. This is my hope; for this do I
live, that I may contemplate the delights of the Lord. Be-
hold, Thou hast made my days old, and they pass away, and
in what manner I know not. And we speak as to time and
time, times and times, "How long is the time since he said
this?" "How long the time since he did this?" and, "How
long the time since I saw that?" and, "This syllable hath
double the time of that single short syllable." These words
we speak, and these we hear; and we are understood, and we
understand. They are most manifest and most usual, and
the same things again lie hid too deeply, and the discovery
of them is new.
CHAP. xxni. That time h a certain extension.
29. I have heard from a learned man that the motions of
the sun, moon, and stars constituted time, and I assented
not (28). For why should not rather the motions of all
bodies be time? What if the lights of heaven should cease,
294 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XI.
and a potter's wheel run round, would there be no time by
which we might measure those revolutions,, and say either
that it turned with equal pauses, or, if it were moved at one
time more slowly, at another more quickly, that some revolu-
tions were longer, others less so? Or while we were saying
this, should we not also be speaking in time? Or should
there in our words be some syllables long, others short, but
because those sounded in a longer time, these in a shorter?
God grant to men to see in a small thing ideas common to
things great and small. Both the stars and luminaries of
heaven are "for signs and for seasons, and for days and
years." No doubt they are; but neither should I say that
the circuit of that wooden wheel was a day, nor yet should
he say that therefore there was no time.
30. I desire to know the power and nature of time, by
which we measure the motions of bodies, and say (for exam-
ple) that this motion is twice as long as that. For, I ask,
since "day" declares not the stay only of the sun upon the
earth, according to which day is one thing, night another, but
also its entire circuit from east even to east, according to
which we say, "So many days have passed" (the nights being
included when we say "so many days," and their spaces not
counted apart), since, then, the day is finished by the mo-
tion of the sun, and by his circuit from east to east, I ask,
whether the motion itself is the day, or the period in which
that motion is completed, or both? For if the first be the
day, then would there be a day although the sun should finish
that course in so small a space of time as an hour. If the
second, then that would not be a day if from one sunrise to
another there were but so short a period as an hour, but the
sun must go round four-and-twenty times to complete a day.
If both, neither could that be called a day if the sun should
CHAP. XXIV.] MOTIONS OF HEAVENLY BODIES NOT TIME 295
run his entire round in the space of an hour 5 nor that, if,
while the sun stood still, so much time should pass as the
sun is accustomed to accomplish his whole course in from
morning to morning. I shall not therefore now ask, what
that is which is called day, but what time is, by which we,
measuring the circuit of the sun, should say that it was accom-
plished in half the space of time it was wont, if it had been
completed in so small a space as twelve hours j and compar-
ing both times, we should call that single, this double time,
although the sun should run his course from east to east
sometimes in that single, sometimes in that double time. Let
no man then tell me that the motions of the heavenly bodies
are times, because, when at the prayer of one the sun stood
still in order that he might achieve his victorious battle, the
sun stood still, but time went on. For in such space of time
as was sufficient was that battle fought and ended. I see that
time, then, is a certain extension. But do I see it, or do I
seem to see it? Thou, O Light and Truth, wilt show me.
CHAP. xxiv. That time is not a motion of the body which we
measure by time.
31. Dost Thou command that I should assent, if any one
should say that time is "the motion of a body?" Thou dost
not command me. For I hear that no body is moved but in
time. This Thou sayest; but that the very motion of a body
is time, I hear not 5 Thou sayest it not. For when a body is
moved, I by time measure how long it may be moving from
the time in which it began to be moved till it left off. And
if I saw not whence it began, and it continued to be moved,
so that I see not when it leaves off, I cannot measure unless,
perchance, from the time I began until I cease to see. But if
296 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XI,
I look long, I only proclaim that the time is long, but not how
long it may be j because when we say, "How long," we speak
by comparison, as, "This is as long as that," or, "This is
double as long as that," or any other thing of the kind. But
if we were able to note down the distances of places whence
and whither cometh the body which is moved, or its parts, if
it moved as in a wheel, we can say in how much time the mo-
tion of the body or its part, from this place unto that, was
performed. Since, then, the motion of a body is one thing,
that by which we measure how long it is another, who can-
not see which of these is rather to be called time? For, al-
though a body be sometimes moved, sometimes stand still,
we measure not its motion only, but also its standing still, by
time 5 and we say, "It stood still as much as it moved j" or,
"It stood still twice or thrice as long as it moved}" and if
any other space which our measuring hath either determined
or imagined, more or less, as we are accustomed to say. Time,
therefore, is not the motion of a body.
CHAP. xxv. He calls on God to enlighten his mind*
32. And I confess unto Thee, O Lord, that I am as yet
ignorant as to what time is, and again I confess unto Thee,
Lord, that I know that I speak these things in time, and
that I have already long spoken of time, and that very "long"
is not long save by the stay of time. How, then, know I
this, when I know not what time is? Or is it, perchance, that
1 know not in what wise I may express what I know? Alas
for me, that I do not at least know the extent of my own ig-
norance! Behold, O my God, before Thee I lie not. As I
speak, so is my heart. Thou shalt light my candle ; Thou,
O Lord my God, wilt enlighten my darkness.
CHAP, xxvi.] MEASURE OF TIME 297
CHAP. xxvi. We measure longer events by shorter in time.
33. Doth not my soul pour out unto Thee truly in con-
fession that I do measure times? But do I thus measure,
O my God, and know not what I measure? I measure the
motion of a body by time 5 and the time itself do I not meas-
ure? But, in truth, could I measure the motion of a body,
how long it is, and how long it is in coming from this place
to that, unless I should measure the time in which it is
moved? How, therefore, do I measure this very time itself?
Or do we by a shorter time measure a longer, as by the space
of a cubit the space of a crossbeam? For thus, indeed, we
seem by the space of a short syllable to measure the space of
a long syllable, and to say that this is double. Thus we meas-
ure the spaces of stanzas by the spaces of the verses, and the
spaces of the verses by the spaces of the feet, and the spaces
of the feet by the spaces of the syllables, and the spaces of
long by the spaces of short syllables; not measuring by
pages (for in that manner we measure spaces, not times), but
when in uttering the words they pass by, and we say, "It is a
long stanza, because it is made up of so many verses; long
verses, because they consist of so many feet; long feet, be-
cause they are prolonged by so many syllables; a long sylla-
ble, because double a short one." But neither thus is any cer-
tain measure of time obtained; since it is possible that a
shorter verse, if it be pronounced more fully, may take up
more time than a longer one, if pronounced more hurriedly.
Thus for a stanza, thus for a foot, thus for a syllable.
Whence it appeared to me that time is nothing else than pro-
traction; but of what I know not. It is wonderful to me, if
it be not of the mind itself. For what do I measure, I be-
seech Thee, O my God, even when I say either indefinitely,
298 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK. XI.
"This time is longer than that 5" or even definitely, "This is
double that"? That I measure time, I know. But I measure
not the future, for it is not yet 5 nor do I measure the present,
because it is extended by no space 5 nor do I measure the past,
because it no longer is. What, therefore, do I measure? Is
it times passing, not passed? For thus had I said.
CHAP. xxvn. Times are measured* in proportion as they pass by.
34. Persevere, O my mind, and give earnest heed. God is
our helper ; He made us, and not we ourselves. Give heed,
where truth dawns. Lo, suppose the voice of a body begins
to sound, and does sound, and sounds on, and lo ! it ceases,
it is now silence, and that voice is past and is no longer a voice.
It was future before it sounded, and could not be measured,
because as yet it was not 5 and now it cannot, because it no
longer is. Then, therefore, while it was sounding, it might,
because there was then that which might be measured. But
even then it did not stand still, for it was going and passing
away. Could it, then, on that account be measured the more?
For, while passing, it was being extended into some space of
time, in which it might be measured, since the present hath no
space. If, therefore, then it might be measured, lo! suppose
another voice hath begun to sound, and still soundeth, in a
continued tenor without any interruption, we can measure it
while it is sounding; for when it shall have ceased to sound,
it will be already past, and there will not be that which can
be measured. Let us measure it truly, and let us say how
much it is. But as yet it sounds, nor can it be measured, save
from that instant in which it began to sound, even to the end
in which it left off. For the interval itself we measure from
some beginning unto some end. On which account, a voice
which is not yet ended cannot be measured, so that it may
CHAP, XXVII.] DIFFICULTY OF MEASURING TIME 299
be said how long or how short it may be; nor can it be said
to be equal to another, or single or double in respect of it, or
the like. But when it is ended, it no longer is. In what man-
ner, therefore, may it be measured? And yet we measure
times 5 still not those which as yet are not, nor those which
no longer are, nor those which are protracted by some delay,
nor those which have no limits. We, therefore, measure
neither future times, nor past, nor present, nor those passing
by; and yet we do measure times.
35. Deus Creator omnmm; this verse of eight syllables
alternates between short and long syllables. The four short,
then, the first, third, fifth, and seventh, are single in respect
of the four long, the second, fourth, sixth, and eighth. Each
of these hath a double time to every one of those; I pro-
nounce them, report on them, and thus it is, as is perceived by
common sense. By common sense, then, I measure a long
by a short syllable, and I find that it has twice as much. But
when one sounds after another, if the former be short, the
latter long, how shall I hold the short one, and how measur-
ing shall I apply it to the long, so that I may find out that this
has twice as much, when indeed the long does not begin to
sound unless the short leaves off sounding? That very long
one I measure not as present, since I measure it not save
when ended. But its ending is its passing away. What, then,
is it that I can measure? Where is the short syllable by
which I measure? Where is the long one which I measure?
Both have sounded, have flown, have passed away, and are
no longer; and still I measure, and I confidently answer
(so far as is trusted to a practised sense), that as to space of
time this syllable is single, that double. Nor could I do
this, unless because they have passed, and are ended. There-
30O CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XI.
fore do I not measure themselves, which now are not, but
something in my memory, which remains fixed.
36. In thce, O my mind, I measure times (29). Do not
overwhelm me with thy clamour. That is, do not over-
whelm thyself with the multitude of thy impressions. In
thee, I say, I measure times j the impression which things as
they pass by make on thee, and which, when they have past
by, remains, that I measure as time present, not those things
which have passed by, that the impression should be made.
This I measure when I measure times. Either, then, these
are times, or I do not measure times. What when we meas-
ure silence, and say that this silence hath lasted as long as
that voice lasts? Do we not extend our thought to the meas-
ure of a voice, as if it sounded, so that we may be able to
declare something concerning the intervals of silence in a
given space of time? For when both the voice and tongue
are still, we go over in thought poems and verses, and any
discourse, or dimensions of motions 5 and declare concerning
the spaces of times, how much this may be in respect of that,
not otherwise than if uttering them we should pronounce
them. Should any one wish to utter a lengthened sound,
and had with forethought determined how long it should
be, that man hath in silence verily gone through a space of
time, and committing it to memory, he begins to utter that
speech, which sounds until it be extended to the end pro-
posed j truly it hath sounded, and will sound. For what of it
is already finished hath verily sounded, but what remains will
sound 3 and thus does it pass on, until the present intention
carry over the future into the past ; the past increasing by the
diminution of the future, until, by the consumption of the
future, all be past.
CHAP. XXVIII.] TIME IN RELATION TO THE MIND 301
CHAP. XXVTII. Time in the human mind^ which exfectS) considers,
and remembers*
37. But how is that future diminished or consumed which
as yet is not? Or how doth the past, which is no longer,
increase, unless in the mind which enacteth this there are
three things done? For it both expects, and considers, and
remembers, that that which it expecteth, through that which
it considereth, may pass into that which it remembereth.
Who, therefore, denieth that future things as yet are not?
But yet there is already in the mind the expectation of things
future. And who denies that past things are now no longer?
But, however, there is still in the mind the memory of
things past. And who denies that time present wants space,
because it passeth away in a moment? But yet our consider-
ation endureth, through which that which may be present
may proceed to become absent. Future time, which is not,
is not therefore long; but a "long future" is "a long expecta-
tion of the future. 3 ' Nor is time past, which is now no
longer, long 5 but a long past is "a long memory of the past."
38. I am about to repeat a psalm that I know. Before
I begin, my attention is extended to the whole j but when I
have begun, as much of it as becomes past by my saying it is
extended in my memory; and the life of this action of mine
is divided between my memory, on account of what I have
repeated, and my expectation, on account of what I am about
to repeat 5 yet my consideration is present with me, through
which that which was future may be carried over so that it
may become past. Which the more it is done and repeated,
by so much (expectation being shortened) the memory is en-
larged, until the whole expectation be exhausted, when that
3O2 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XI.
whole action being ended shall have passed into memory.
And what takes place in the entire psalm, takes place also
in each individual part of it, and in each individual syllable:
this holds in the longer action, of which that psalm is per-
chance a portion 5 the same holds in the whole life of man,
of which all the actions of man are parts j the same holds in
the whole age of the sons of men, of which all the lives of
men are parts.
CHAP* xxix. That human life is a distraction, but that, through
the mercy of God), he was intent on the p-ize of his heavenly
calling.
39. But "because Thy loving-kindness is better than
life," behold, my life is but a distraction, and Thy right hand
upheld me in my Lord, the Son of man, the Mediator be-
tween Thee, The One, and us the many, in many distrac-
tions amid many things, that through Him I may appre-
hend in whom I have been apprehended, and may be re-
collected from my old days, following The One, forgetting
the things that are past j and not distracted, but drawn on, not
to those things which shall be and shall pass away, but to
those things which are before, not distractedly, but intently, I
follow on for the prize of my heavenly calling, where I may
hear the voice of Thy praise, and contemplate Thy delights,
neither coming nor passing away. But now are my years
spent in mourning. And Thou, O Lord, art my comfort, my
Father everlasting. But I have been divided amid times, the
order of which I know not} and my thoughts, even the in-
most bowels of my soul, are mangled with tumultuous varie-
ties, until I flow together unto Thee, purged and molten in
the fire of Thy love.
CHAP. XXX.] GOD'S KNOWLEDGE WONDERFUL 303
CHAP. XXX. Again "he refutes the empty question, "What did God
before the creation of the world?"
40. And I will be immoveable, and fixed in Thee, in my
mould, Thy truth 5 nor will I endure the questions of men,
who by a penal disease thirst for more than they can hold,
and say, "What did God make before He made heaven and
earth?" Or, "How came it into His mind to make anything,
when He never before made anything?" Grant to them, O
Lord, to think well what they say, and to see that where there
is no time, they cannot say *'never." What, therefore, He
is said "never to have made," what else is it but to say, that
in no time was it made? Let them therefore see that there
could be no time without a created being, and let them cease
to speak that vanity. Let them also be extended unto those
things which are before, and understand that Thou, the eter-
nal Creator of all times, art before all times, and that no
times are co-eternal with Thee, nor any creature, even if
there be any creature beyond all times.
CHAP. xxxi. How the knowledge of God difers from that of
man*
41. O Lord my God, what is that secret place of Thy
mystery, and how far thence have the consequences of my
transgressions cast me? Heal my eyes, that I may enjoy Thy
light. Surely, if there be a mind, so greatly abounding in
knowledge and foreknowledge, to which all things past and
future are so known as one psalm is well known to me, that
mind is exceedingly wonderful, and very astonishing 5 be-
cause whatever is so past, and whatever is to come of after
ages, is no more concealed from Him than was it hidden from
me when singing that psalm, what and how much of it had
304 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK. XI.
been sung from the beginning, what and how much remained
unto the end. But far be it that Thou, the Creator of the
universe, the Creator of souls and bodies, far be it that
Thou shouldest know all things future and past. Far, far
more wonderfully, and far more mysteriously, Thou know-
est them. For it is not as the feelings of one singing known
things, or hearing a known song, are through expectation
of future words, and in remembrance of those that are past
varied, and his senses divided, that anything happeneth
unto Thee, unchangeably eternal, that is, the truly eternal
Creator of minds. As, then, Thou in the Beginning knew-
est the heaven and the earth without any change of Thy
knowledge, so in the Beginning didst Thou make heaven and
earth without any distraction of Thy action. Let him who
understandeth confess unto Thee; and let him who under-
standeth not, confess unto thee. Oh, how exalted art Thou,
and yet the humble in heart are Thy dwelling-place; for
Thou raisest up those that are bowed down, and they whose
exaltation Thou art fall not.
BOOK TWELFTH
HE CONTINUES HIS EXPLANATION OF THE FIRST CHAPTER OF GENESIS AC
CORDING TO THE SEPTUAGINT, AND BY ITS ASSISTANCE HE ARGUES,
ESPECIALLY, CONCERNING THE DOUBLE HEAVEN, AND THE FORMLESS
MATTER OUT OF WHICH THE WHOLE WORLD MAY HAVE BEEN CREATED;
AFTERWARDS OF THE INTERPRETATIONS OF OTHERS NOT DISALLOWED,
AND SETS FORTH AT GREAT LENGTH THE SENSE OF THE HOLY SCRIPTURE.
CHAP. r. The discovery of truth is difficulty but God has promised
that he who seeks shall find.
I. T\ yf"Y heart, O Lord, affected by the words of Thy
-L T A Holy Scripture, is much busied in this poverty of
my life 5 and therefore, for the most part, is the Want of
human intelligence copious in language, because inquiry
speaks more than discovery, and because demanding is longer
than obtaining, and the hand that knocks is more active than
the hand that receives. We hold the promise 5 who shall
break it? "If God be for us, who can be against us?" "Ask.,
and ye shall have 3 seek, and ye shall find, knock, and it shall
be opened unto you: for every one that asketh receiveth; and
he that seeketh findeth 5 and to him that knocketh it shall be
opened." These are Thine own promises 5 and who need fear
to be deceived where the Truth promiseth?
CHAP. n. Of the double heaven, the visible, and the heaven of
heavens.
2. The weakness of my tongue confesseth unto Thy High-
ness, seeing that Thou madest heaven and earth. This
heaven which I see, and this earth upon which I tread (from
305
3O6 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XII.
which is this earth that I carry about me), Thou hast made.
But where is that heaven of heavens, O Lord, of which we
hear in the words of the Psalm, The heaven of heavens are
the Lord's, but the earth hath He given to the children of
men? Where is the heaven, which we behold not, in com-
parison of which all this, which we behold, is earth? For
this corporeal whole, not as a whole everywhere, hath thus
received its beautiful figure in these lower parts, of which the
bottom is our earth; but compared with that heaven of
heavens, even the heaven of our earth is but earth ; yea, each
of these great bodies is not absurdly called earth, as compared
with that, I know not what manner of heaven, which is the
Lord's, not the sons' of men,
CHAP. in. Of the darkness ufon the deef, and of the invisible and
formless earth.
3. And truly this earth was invisible and formless, and
there was I know not what profundity of the deep upon
which there was no light, because it had no form. Therefore
didst Thou command that it should be written, that darkness
was upon the face of the deep 5 what else was it than the ab-
sence of light? For had there been light, where should it
have been save by being above all, showing itself aloft, and
enlightening? Where, therefore, light was as yet not, why
was it that darkness wks present, unless because light was
absent? Darkness therefore was upon it, because the light
above was absent ; as silence is there present where sound is
not. And what is it to have silence there, but not to have
sound there? Hast not Thou, O Lord, taught this soul which
confesseth unto Thee? Hast not Thou taught me, O Lord,
that before Thou didst form and separate this formless mat-
ter, there was nothing, neither colour, nor figure, nor body,
CHAP. IV.] HIS OLD NOTIONS AS TO MATTER 307
nor spirit? Yet not altogether nothing 5 there was a certain
formlessness without any shape.
CHAP. iv. From the formlessness of matter^ the beautiful world
has arisen.
4. What, then, should it be called, that even in some ways
it might be conveyed to those of duller mind, save by some
conventional word? But what, in all parts of the world, can
be found nearer to a total formlessness than the earth and
the deep? For, from their being of the lowest position, they
are less beautiful than are the other higher parts, all trans-
parent and shining. Why, therefore, may I not consider the
formlessness of matter which Thou hadst created without
shape, whereof to make this shapely world to be fittingly
intimated unto men by the name of earth invisible and
formless?
CHAP. v. What may have been the form of matter.
5. So that when herein thought seeketh what the sense
may arrive at, and saith to itself, "It is no intelligible form,
such as life or justice, because it is the matter of bodies 5 nor
perceptible by the senses, because in the invisible and form-
less there is nothing which can be seen and felt;" while
human thought saith these things to itself, it may endeavour
either to know it by being ignorant, or by knowing it to be
ignorant.
CHAP. vr. Re confesses that at one time he himself thought erro-
neously of matter.
6. But were I, O Lord, by my mouth and by my pen to
confess unto Thee the whole, whatever Thou hast taught me
concerning that matter, the name of which hearing before-
308 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XII.
hand, and not understanding (they who could not under-
stand it telling me of it), I conceived it as having innumer-
able and varied forms. And therefore I did not conceive
it 5 my mind revolved in disturbed order foul and horrible
"forms," but yet "forms j w and I called it formless, not that
it lacked form, but because it had such as, did it appear, my
mind would turn from, as unwonted and incongruous, and
at which human weakness would be disturbed. But even that
which I did conceive was formless, not by the privation of all
form, but in comparison of more beautiful forms 5 and true
reason persuaded me that I ought altogether to remove from
it all remnants of any form whatever, if I wished to conceive
matter wholly without form 5 and I could not. For sooner
could I imagine that that which should be deprived of all
form was not at all, than conceive anything between form
and nothing, neither formed, nor nothing, formless, nearly
nothing. And my mind hence ceased to question my spirit,
filled (as it was) with the images of formed bodies, and
changing and varying them according to its will 5 and I ap-
plied myself to the bodies themselves, and looked more
deeply into their mutability, by which they cease to be what
they had been, and begin to be what they were not 5 and this
same transit from form unto form I have looked upon to be
through some formless condition, not through a very noth-
ing 5 but desired to know, not to guess. And if my voice and
my pen should confess the whole unto Thee, Whatsoever
knots Thou hast untied for me concerning this question, who
of my readers would endure to take in the whole? Nor yet,
therefore, shall my heart cease to give Thee honour, and a
song of praise, for those things which it is not able to ex-
press. For the mutability of mutable things is itself capable
of all those forms into which mutable things are changed.
CHAP. VII.] THE WORLD CREATED OUT OF NOTHING 309
And this mutability, what is it? Is it soul? Is it body? Is
it the outer appearance of soul or body? Could it be said,
"Nothing were something," and "That which is, is not/' I
would say that this were it; and yet in some manner was it
already, since it could receive these visible and compound
shapes.
CHAP. vil. Out of nothing God made heaven and earth.
7. And whence and in what manner was this, unless from
Thee, from whom are all things, in so far as they are?
But by how much the farther from Thee, so much the more
unlike unto Thee; for it is not distance of place. Thou,
therefore, O Lord, who art not one thing in one place, and
otherwise in another, but the Self-same, and the Self-same,
and the Self-same Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty,
didst in the beginning, which is of Thee, in Thy Wisdom,
which was born of Thy' Substance, create something, and
that out of nothing. For Thou didst create heaven and
earth, not out of Thyself, for then they would be equal to
Thine Only-begotten, and thereby even to Thee; and in no
wise would it be right that anything should be equal to Thee
which was not of Thee. And aught else except Thee there
was not whence Thou mightest create these things, O God,
One Trinity, and Trine Unity; and, therefore, out of noth-
ing didst Thou create heaven and earth, a great thing and
a small, because Thou art Almighty and Good, to make all
things good, even the great heaven and the small earth.
Thou wast, and there was nought else from which Thou didst
create heaven and earth; two such things, one near unto
Thee, the other near to nothing, one to which Thou
shouldest be superior, the other to which nothing should be
inferior.
3IO CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XII."
CHAP. VIIL Heaven and earth were made (( ln the
afterwards the world, during six days, from shameless matter.
8. But that heaven of heavens was for Thee, O Lord} but
the earth, which Thou hast given to the sons of men, to be
seen and touched, was not such as now we see and touch.
For it was invisible and "without form," and there was a
deep over which there was not light j or, darkness was over
the deep, that is, more than in the deep. For this deep of
waters, now visible, has, even in its depths, a light suitable
to its nature, perceptible in some manner unto fishes and
creeping things in the bottom of it. But the entire deep was
almost nothing, since hitherto it was altogether formless}
yet there was then that which could be formed. For Thou,
O Lord, hast made the world of a formless matter, which
matter, out of nothing, Thou hast made almost nothing, out
of which to make those great things which we, sons of men,
wonder at. For very wonderful is this corporeal heaven, of
which firmament, between water and water, the second day
after the creation of light, Thou saidst, Let it be made, and
it was made. Which firmament Thou calledst heaven, that
is, the heaven of this earth and sea, which Thou madest on
the third day, by giving a visible shape to the formless mat-
ter which Thou madest before all days. For even already
hadst Thou made a heaven before all days, but that was the
heaven of this heaven} because in the beginning Thou hadst
made heaven and earth. But the earth itself which Thou
hadst made was formless matter, because it was invisible and
without form, and darkness was upon the deep. Of which in-
visible and formless earth, of which formlessness, of which
almost nothing, Thou mightest make all these things of which
this changeable world consists, and yet consisteth not; whose
CHAP. IX.] THE DEEP THINGS OF GOD
very changeableness appears in this, that times can be ob-
served and numbered in it. Because times are made by the
change of things, while the shapes, whose matter is the invisi-
ble earth aforesaid, are varied and turned.
CHAP. ix. That the heaven of heavens was an Intellectual crea-
ture, but that the earth was invisible and formless before the
days that it was made.
9. And therefore the Spirit, the Teacher of Thy servant,
when He relates that Thou didst in the Beginning create
heaven and earth, is silent as to times, silent as to days. For,
doubtless, that heaven of heavens, which Thou in the Be-
ginning didst create, is some intellectual creature, which,
although in no wise co-eternal unto Thee, the Trinity, is
yet a partaker of Thy eternity, and by reason of the sweet-
ness of that most happy contemplation of Thyself, doth
greatly restrain its own mutability, and without any failure,
from the time in which it was created, in clinging unto Thee,
surpasses all the rolling change of times. But this shapeless-
ness this earth invisible and without form has not itself
been numbered among the days. For where there is no shape
nor order, nothing either cometh or goeth $ and where this is
not, there certainly are no days, nor any vicissitude of spaces
of times.
CHAP. x. He begs of God that he may live in the true light > and
may be instructed as to the mysteries of the sacred books.
10. Oh, let Truth, the light of my heart, not my own
darkness, speak unto 'me! I have descended to that, and am
darkened. But thence, even thence, did I love Thee. I went
astray, and remembered Thee. I heard Thy voice behind me
bidding 'me return, and scarcely did I hear it for the
312 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XII.
tumults of the unquiet ones. And now, behold, I return
burning and panting after Thy fountain. Let no one pro-
hibit me, of this will I drink, and so have life. Let me not
be my own life; for myself have I badly lived, death
was I unto myself 5 in Thee do I revive. Do Thou speak
unto mej do Thou discourse unto me. In Thy books have
I believed, and their words are very deep.
CHAP. xi. What 'may be discovered to him by God.
11. Already hast Thou told me, O Lord, with a strong
voice, in my inner ear, that Thou art eternal, having alone
immortality. Since Thou art not changed by any shape or
motion, nor is Thy will altered by times, because no will
which changes is immortal. This in Thy sight is clear to me,
and let it become more and more clear, I beseech Thee $ and
in that manifestation let me abide more soberly under Thy
wings. Likewise hast Thou said to me, O Lord, with a
strong voice, in my inner ear, that Thou hast made all
natures and substances, Which are not what Thou Thyself
art, and yet they are; and that only is not from Thee which
is not, and the motion of the will from Thee who art, to
that which in a less degree is, because such motion is guilt
and sin 5 and that no one's sin doth either hurt Thee, or dis-
turb the order of Thy rule, either first or last. This, in
Thy sight, is clear to me, and let it become more and more
clear, I beseech Thee 5 and in that manifestation let me
abide more soberly under Thy wings.
12. Likewise hast Thou said to me, with ? strong voice,
in my inner ear, that that creature, whose will Thou alone
art, is not co-eternal unto Thee, and which, with a most
persevering purity drawing its support from Thee, doth,
in no place and at no time, put forth its own mutability 5 and
CHAP. XI.] THE LIFE OF THE SOUL 313
Thyself being ever present with it, unto Whom with its
entire affection it holds itself, having no future to expect nor
conveying into the past what it remembereth, is varied by no
change, nor extended into any times. O blessed o^ie, if
any such there be, in clinging unto Thy Blessedness 5 blest
in Thee, its everlasting Inhabitant and its Enlightener! Nor
do I find what the heaven of heavens, which is the Lord's, can
be better called than Thine house, which contemplateth Thy
delight without any defection of going forth to another 5 a
pure mind, most peacefully one, by that stability of peace
of holy spirits, the citizens of Thy city "in the heavenly
places," above -these heavenly places which are seen.
13. Whence the soul, whose wandering has been made far
away, may understand, if now she thirsts for Thee, if now
her tears have become bread to her, while it is daily said
"unto her "Where is thy God?" if she now seeketh of Thee
one thing, and desireth that she may dwell in Thy house all
the days of her life. And what is her life but Thee? And
what are Thy days but Thy eternity, as Thy years which fail
not, because Thou art the same? Hence, therefore, can
the soul, which is able, understand how far beyond all times
Thou art eternal 5 when Thy house, which has not wandered
from Thee, although it be not co-eternal with Thee, yet by
continually and unfailingly clinging unto Thee, suffers no
vicissitude of times. This in Thy sight is clear unto me, and
may it become more and more clear unto me, I beseech
Thee 5 and in this manifestation may I abide more soberly
under Thy wings.
14. Behold, I know not what shapelessness there is in
those changes of these last and lowest creatures. And who
shall tell me, unless it be some one who, through the empti-
314 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XII.
ness of his own heart, wanders and is staggered by his own
fancies? Who, unless such a one, would tell me that (all
figure being diminished and consumed) , if the formlessness
only remain, through which the thing was changed and was
turned from one figure into another, that that can exhibit
the changes of times? For surely it could not be, because
without the change of motions times are not, and there is
no change where there is no figure.
CHAP. xn. From the formless earthy God created another heaven
and a visible and formed earth.
15. Which things considered as much as Thou givest, O
my God, as much as Thou excitest me to "knock," and as
much as Thou openest unto me when I knock, two things I
find which Thou hast made, not within the compass of time,
since neither is co-eternal with Thee, One, which is so
formed that, without any failing of contemplation, without
any interval of change, although changeable, yet not changed,
it may fully enjoy Thy eternity and unchangeableness; the
other, which was so formless, that it had not that by which it
could be changed from one form into another, either of
motion or of repose, whereby it might be subject unto time.
But this Thou didst not leave to be formless, since "before all
days, in the beginning Thou createdst heaven and earth,
these two things of which I spoke. But the earth was in-
visible and without form, and darkness was upon the deep.
By which words its shapelessness is conveyed unto us, that
by degrees those minds may be drawn on which cannot
wholly conceive the privation of all form without coming
to nothing, whence another heaven might be created, and
another earth visible and well-formed, and water beauti-
CHAP. XIII.] THE HEAVEN AND THE EARTH 315
fully ordered, and whatever besides is, in the formation of
this world, recorded to have been, not without days, created;
because such things are so that in them the vicissitudes of
times may take place, on account of the appointed changes
of motions and of forms.
CHAP. xni. Of the intellectual* heaven and formless earth, out
of which on another day the firmament was formed.
r 6. Meanwhile I conceive this, O my God, when I hear
Thy Scripture speak, saying, In the beginning God made
heaven and earth ; but the earth was invisible and without
form, and darkness was upon the deep, and not stating on
what day Thou didst create these things. Thus, meanwhile,
do I conceive, that it is on account of that heaven of heavens,
that intellectual heaven, where to understand is to know all
at once, not "in part," not "darkly," not "through a glass,"
but as a whole, in manifestation, "face to face;" not this thing
now, that anon, but (as has been said) to know at once with-
out any change of times; and on account of the invisible and
formless earth, without any change of times; which change
is wont to have "this thing now, that anon," because, where
there is no form there can be no distinction between "this"
or "that;" it is, then, on account of these two, a primi-
tively formed, and a wholly formless; the one heaven, but
the heaven of heavens, the other earth, but the earth in-
visible and formless; on account of these two do I mean-
while conceive that Thy Scripture said without mention of
days, "In the beginning God created the heaven and the
earth." For immediately it added of what earth it spake.
And when on the second day the firmament is recorded
to have been created, and called heaven, it suggests to us
of which heaven He spake before without mention of days.
3l6 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK: XII.
CHAP. xiv. Of the defth of the Sacred Scrtyture, and its enemies.
17. Wonderful is the depth of Thy oracles, whose surface
is before us, inviting the little ones 5 and yet wonderful is
the depth, O my God, wonderful is the depth. It is awe to
look into it 5 an awe of honour, and a tremor of love. The
enemies thereof I hate vehemently. Oh, if Thou wouldst
slay them with Thy two-edged sword, that they be not its
enemies! For thus do I love, that they should be slain
unto themselves that they may live unto Thee. But behold
others not reprovers, but praisers of the book of Genesis,
"The Spirit of God," say they, "Who by His servant Moses
wrote these things, willed not that these words should be
thus understood. He willed not that it should be under-
stood as Thou sayest, but as we say. 77 Unto whom, O God
of us all, Thyself being Judge, do I thus answer.
CHAP. xv. He argues against adversaries concerning the heaven
of heavens.
1 8. "Will you say that these things are false, which, with
a strong voice, Truth tells me in my inner ear, concerning
the very eternity of the Creator, that His substance is in no
wise changed by time, nor that His will is separate from His
substance? Wherefore, He willeth not one thing now, an-
other anon, but once and for ever He willeth all things that
He willeth; not again and again, nor now this, now that; nor
willeth afterwards what He willeth not before, nor willeth
not what before He willed. Because such a will is mutable,
and no mutable thing is eternal; but our God is eternal.
Likewise He tells me, tells me in my inner ear, that the ex-
pectation of future things is turned to sight when they have
come 5 and this same sight is turned to memory when they
CHAP. XV.] THE WILL OF GOD IS ETERNAL 317
have passed. Moreover, all thought which is thus varied is
mutable, and nothing mutable is eternal 5 but our God is
eternal." These things I sum up and put together, and I
find that my God, the eternal God, hath not made any
creature by any new will, nor that His knowledge suffereth
anything transitory.
19. What, therefore, will ye say, ye objectors? Are these
things false? "No," they say. "What is this? Is it false,'
then, that every nature already formed, or matter formable,
is only from Him who is supremely good, because He is
supreme?" "Neither do we deny this," say they. "What
then? Do you deny this, that there is a certain sublime
creature, clinging with so chaste a love with the true and
truly eternal God, that although it be not co-eternal with
Him, yet it separateth itself not from Him, nor floweth into
any variety and vicissitude of times, but resteth in the truest
contemplation of Him only?" Since Thou, O God, show-
est Thyself unto him, and sufficest him, who loveth Thee as
much as Thou commandest, and, therefore, he declineth
not from Thee, nor toward himself. This is the house of
God, not earthly, nor of any celestial bulk corporeal, but a
spiritual house and a partaker of Thy eternity, because with-
out blemish for ever. For Thou hast made it fast for ever
and ever j Thou hast given it a law, which it shall not
pass. Nor yet is it co-eternal with Thee, O God, because
not without beginning, for it was made.
20. For although we find no time before it, for wisdom
was created before all things, not certainly that Wisdom
manifestly co-eternal and equal unto Thee, our God, His
Father, and by Whom all things were created, and in Whom,
as the Beginning, Thou createdst heaven and earth; but
truly that wisdom which has been created, namely, the in-
31 8 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XII.
tellectual nature, which, in the contemplation of light, is
light. For this, although created, is also called wisdom. But
as great as is the difference between the Light which enlight-
eneth and that which is enlightened, so great is the differ-
ence between the Wisdom that createth and that which hath
been created 5 as between the Righteousness which justifieth,
and the righteousness which has been made by justification.
For we also are called Thy righteousness 5 for thus saith a
certain servant of Thine: "That we might be made the
righteousness of God in him." Therefore, since a certain
created wisdom was created before all things, the rational
and intellectual mind of that chaste city of Thine, our mother
which is above, and is free, and "eternal in the heavens"
(in what heavens, unless in those that praise Thee, the
"heaven of heavens," because this also is the "heaven of
heavens," which is the Lord's) although we find not time
before it, because that which hath been created before all
things also precedeth the creature of time, yet is the Eter-
nity of the Creator Himself before it, from Whom, having
been created, it took the beginning, although not of time.
for time as yet was not, yet of its own very nature.
21. Hence comes it so to be of Thee, our God, as to be
manifestly another than Thou, and not the Self-same. 'Since,
although we find time not only not before it, but not in it
(it being proper ever to behold Thy face, nor is ever turned
aside from it, wherefore it happens that it is varied by no
change), yet is there in it that mutability itself whence it
would become dark and cold, but that, clinging unto Thee
with sublime love, it shineth and gloweth from Thee like a
perpetual noon. O house, full of light and splendour! I
have loved thy beauty, and the place of the habitation of the
glory of my Lord, thy builder and owner. Let my wander-
CHAP. XVI.] THOSE WHO DENY DIVINE TRUTH 319
ing sigh after thee5 and I speak unto Him that made thee,
that He may possess me also in thee, seeing He hath made
me likewise. "I have gone astray, like a lost sheep j" yet
upon the shoulders of my Shepherd, thy builder, I hope that
I may be brought back to thee.
22. "What say ye to me, O ye objectors whom I was
addressing, and who yet believe that Moses was the holy
servant of God, and that his books were the oracles of the
Holy Ghost? Is not this house of God, not indeed co-
eternal with God, yet, according to its measure, eternal in
the heavens, where in vain you seek for changes of times,
because you will not find them? For that surpasseth all ex-
tension, and every revolving space of time, to which it is
ever good to cleave fast to God." "It is/ 5 say they. "What,
therefore, of those things which my heart cried out unto
my God, when within it heard the voice of His praise, what
then do you contend is false? Or is it because the matter was
formless, wherein, as there was no form, there was no
order? But where there was no order there could not be
any change of times 3 and yet this c almost nothing,' inasmuch
as it was not altogether nothing, was verily from Him, from
Whom is whatever is, in what state soever anything is."
"This also," say they, "we do not deny."
CHAP. xvi. He wishes to have no intercourse with those who deny
Divine Truth.
23. With such as grant that all these things which Thy
truth indicates to my mind are true, I desire to confer
a little before Thee, O my God. For let those who deny
these things bark and drown their own voices with their
clamour as much as they please 5 I will endeavour to persuade
them to be quiet, and to suffer Thy word to reach them.
32O CONFESSIONS OF ST, AUGUSTINE [BOOK XII.
But should they be unwilling, and should they repel me, I
beseech, O my God, that Thou "be not silent to me." Do
Thou speak truly in my heart, for Thou only so speakest,
and I will send them away blowing upon the dust from
without, and raising it up into their own eyesj and I will
myself enter into my chamber, and sing there unto Thee
songs of love, groaning with groanings unutterable in my
pilgrimage, and remembering Jerusalem, with heart raised
up towards it, Jerusalem my country, Jerusalem my mother,
and Thyself, the Ruler over it, the Enlightener, the Father,
the Guardian, the Husband, the chaste and strong delight,
the solid joy, and all good things ineffable, even all at the
same time, because the one supreme and true Good. And
I will not be turned away until Thou collect all that I am,
from this dispersion and deformity, into the peace of that
very dear mother, where are the first-fruits of my spirit,
Whence these things are assured to me, and Thou conform
and confirm it for ever, my God, my Mercy. But with
reference to those who say not that all these things which
are true are false, who honour Thy Holy Scripture set
forth by holy Moses, placing it, as with us, on the summit
of an authority to be followed, and yet who contradict us in
some particulars, I thus speak: Be Thou, O our God, judge
between my confessions and their contradictions.
CHAP, xvil. He mentions five explanations of the words of
Genesis i. i.
24. For they say, "Although these things be true, yet
Moses regarded not those two things, when by divine revela-
tion he said, *In the beginning God created the heaven and
the earth. 5 Under the name of heaven he did not indicate
that spiritual or intellectual creature which always beholds
CHAP. XVII.] EXPLANATIONS OF GENESIS It,
the face of God 5 nor under the name of earth, that shapeless
matter." "What then? " "That man," say they, "meant as
we say 5 this it is that he declared by those words." "What
is that? " "By the name of heaven and earth," say they, "did
he first wish to set forth, universally and briefly, all this
visible world, that afterwards by the enumeration of the days
he might distribute, as if in detail, all those things which it
pleased the Holy Spirit thus to reveal. For such men were
that rude and carnal people to which he spoke, that he
judged it prudent that only those works of God as were
visible should be entrusted to them." They agree, however,
that the earth invisible and formless, and the darksome deep
(out of which it is subsequently pointed out that all these
visible things, which are known to all, were made and set in
order during those "days"), may not unsuitably be under-
stood of this formless matter.
25. What, now, if another should say "That this same
formlessness and confusion of matter was first introduced
under the name of heaven and earth, because out of it this
visible world, with all those natures which most manifestly
appear in it, and which is wont to be called by the name of
heaven and earth, was created and perfected"? But what
if another should say, that "That invisible and visible nature
is not inaptly called heaven and earth j and that consequently
the universal creation, which God in His wisdom hath made,
that is, c in the beginning,' was comprehended under
these two words. Yet, since all things have been made, not
of the substance of God, but out of nothing (because they
are not that same thing that God is, and there is in them
all a certain mutability, whether they remain, as doth the
eternal house of God, or be changed, as are the soul and
body of man), therefore, that the common matter of all
322 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XII.
things invisible and visible, as yet shapeless, but still cap-
able of form, out of which was to be created heaven and
earth (that is, the invisible and visible creature already
formed), was spoken of by the same names by which the
earth invisible and formless and the darkness upon the
deep would be called 5 with this difference, however, that
the earth invisible and formless is understood as corporeal
matter, before it had any manner of form, but the darkness
upon the deep as spiritual matter, before it was restrained
at all of its unlimited fluidity, and before the enlightening
of wisdom."
26. Should any man wish, he may still say, "That the
already perfected and formed natures, invisible and visible,
are not signified under the name of heaven and earth when
it is read, c ln the beginning God created the heaven and the
earth}' but that the yet same formless beginning of things,
the matter capable of being formed and made, was called
by these names, because contained in it there were these con-
fused things not as yet distinguished by their qualities and
forms, the which now being digested in their own orders,
are called heaven and earth, the former being the spiritual,
the latter the corporeal creature."
CHAP, xviii. What error is harmless In Sacred- Scripture.*
27. All which things having been heard and considered,
I am unwilling to contend about words, for that is profitable
to nothing but to the subverting of the hearers. But the
law is good to edify, if a man use it lawfully, for the end
of it "is charity out of a pure heart, and of a good conscience,
and of faith unfeigned." And well did our Master know,
upon which two commandments He hung all the Law and the
Prophets. And what doth it hinder me, O my God, Thou
CHAP. XIX.] THE THINGS ON WHICH ALL AGREE 323
light of my eyes in secret, while ardently confessing these
things, since by these words many things may be under-
stood, all of which are yet true, what, I say, doth it hinder
me, should I think otherwise of what the writer thought
than some other man thinketh? Indeed, all of us who read
endeavour to trace out and to understand that which he
whom we read wished to convey 5 and as we believe him to
speak truly, we dare not suppose that he has spoken any-
thing which we either know or suppose to be false. Since,
therefore, each person endeavours to understand in the Holy
Scriptures that which the writer understood, what hurt is
it if a man understand what Thou, the light of all true-
speaking minds, dost show him to be true although he whom
he reads understood not this, seeing that he also understood
a Truth, not, however, this Truth?
CHAP. xix. He enumerates the things concerning which all agree.
28. For it is true, O Lord, that Thou hast made heaven
and earth; it is also true, that the Beginning is Thy Wisdom
in Which Thou hast made all things. It is likewise true, that
this visible world hath its own great parts, the heaven and the
earth, which in a short compass comprehends all made and
created natures. It is also true, that everything mutable sets
before our minds a certain want of form, whereof it taketh a
form, or is changed and turned. It is true, that that is sub-
ject to no times which so cleaveth to the changeless form as
that, though it be mutable, it is not changed. It is true,
that the formlessness, which is almost nothing, cannot have
changes of times. It is true, that that of which anything is
made may by a certain mode of speech be called by the name
of that thing which is made of it ; whence that formlessness
of which heaven and earth were made might be called
324 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XII.
"heaven and earth." It is true, that of all things having
form, nothing is nearer to the formless than the earth and
the deep. It is true, that not only every created and formed
thing, but also whatever is capable of creation and of form,
Thou hast made, "by whom are all things." It is true,
that everything that is formed from that which is formless
was formless before it was formed.
CHAP. XX. Of the words, "In the beginning" variously under*
stood.
29. From all these truths, of which they doubt not whose
inner eye Thou hast granted to see such things, and who
immovably believe Moses, Thy servant, to have spoken in
the spirit of truth 5 from all these, then, he taketh one who
saith, "In the beginning God created the heaven and the
earth," that is, "In His Word, co-eternal with Himself,
God made the intelligible and the sensible, or the spiritual
and corporeal creature." He taketh another, who saith, "In
the beginning God created the heaven and the earth," that
is, "In His Word, co-eternal with Himself, God made the
universal mass of this corporeal world, with all those mani-
fest and known natures which it containeth." He, another,
who saith, "In the beginning God created the heaven and
the earth," that is, "In His Word, co-eternal with Himself,
God made the formless matter of the spiritual and corporeal
creature." He, another, who saith, "In the beginning God
created the heaven and the earth," that is, "In His Word,
co-eternal with Himself, God made the formless matter of
the corporeal creature, wherein heaven and earth lay as yet
confused, which being now distinguished and formed, we, at
this day, see in the mass of this world." He, another, who
saith, " T .n the beginning God created heaven and earth,"
CHAP, xxi.] "THE. EARTH WAS INVISIBLE'*
that is, "In the very beginning of creating and working, God
made that formless matter confusedly containing heaven and
earth, out of which, being formed, they now stand out, and
are manifest, with all the things that are in them."
CHAP. xxi. Of the explanation of the words, "The earth was
invisible"
30. And as concerns the understanding of the following
words, out of all those truths he selected one to himself,
who saith, "But the earth was invisible and without form, and
darkness was upon the deep," that is, "That corporeal
thing, which God made, was as yet the formless matter of
corporeal things, without order, without light." He taketh
another, who saith, "But the earth was invisible and with-
out form, and darkness was upon the deep," that is, "This
whole, which is called heaven and earth, was as yet formless
and darksome matter, out of which the corporeal heaven
and the corporeal earth were to be made, with all things
therein which are known to our corporeal senses." He, an-
other, who saith, "But the earth was invisible and without
form, and darkness was upon the deep," that is, "This
Whole, which is called heaven and earth, was as yet a form-
less and darksome matter, out of which were to be made
that intelligible heaven, which is otherwise called the heaven
of heavens, and the earth, namely, the whole corporeal na-
ture, under which name may also be comprised this corporeal
heaven, that is, from which every invisible and visible
creature would be created." He, another, who saith, "But
the earth was invisible and without form, and darkness was
upon the deep," "The Scripture called not that formless-
ness by the name of heaven and earth, but that formlessness
itself." saith he, "already was, which he named the earth.
326 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XII.
invisible and formless and the darksome deep, of which
he had said before, that God had made the heaven and the
earth, namely, the spiritual and corporeal creature." He,
another, who saith, "But the earth was invisible and form-
less, and darkness was upon the deep," that is, "There
was already a formless matter, whereof the Scripture before
said, that God had made heaven and earth, namely, the
entire corporeal mass of the world, divided into two very
great parts, the superior and the inferior, with all those
'familiar and known creatures which are in them."
CHAP. xxn. He discusses whether matter was from eternity) or
was made by God.
31. For, should any one endeavour to contend against
these last two opinions, thus, "If you will not admit that
this formlessness of matter appears to be called by the name
of heaven and earth, then there was something which God
had not made out of which He could make heaven and earth ;
for Scripture hath not told us that God made this matter,
unless we understand it to be implied in the term of heaven
and earth, or of earth only, when it is said, 'In the beginning
God created heaven and earth,' as that which follows, but
the earth was invisible and formless, although it was pleasing
to him so to call the formless matter, we may not yet under-
stand any but that which God made in that text which hath
been already written, <God made heaven and earth. 7 " The
maintainers of either one or the other of these two opinions
which we have put last will, when they have heard these
things, answer and say, "We deny not indeed that this form-
less matter was created by God, the God of whom are all
things, very good; for, as we say that that is a greater good
which is created and formed, so we acknowledge that that is
CHAP. XXII.] THE ORIGIN OF MATTER
a minor good which is capable of creation and form, but yet
good. But yet the Scripture hath not declared that God
made this formlessness, any more than it hath declared many
other things j as the 'Cherubim,' and 'Seraphim,' and those
of which the apostle distinctly speaks, 'Thrones,' 'Domin-
ions,' 'Principalities/ 'Powers,' all of which it is manifest
God made. Or if in that which is said, 'He made heaven
and earth,' all things are comprehended, what do we say
of the waters upon which the Spirit of God moved? For
if they are understood as incorporated in the word earth,
how then can formless matter be meant in the term earth
when we see the waters so beautiful? Or if it be so meant,
why then is it written that out of the same formlessness the
firmament was made and called heaven, and yet it is not
written that the waters were made? For those waters, which
we perceive flowing in so beautiful a manner, remain not
formless and invisible. But if, then, they received that
beauty when God said, Let the water which is under the
firmament be gathered together, so that the gathering be
the very formation, what will be answered concerning the
waters which are above the firmament, because if formless
they would not have deserved to receive a seat so honour-
able, nor is it written by what word they were formed?
If, then, Genesis is silent as to anything that God has made,
which, however, neither sound faith nor unerring under-
standing doubteth that God hath made, let not any sober
teaching dare to say that these waters were co-eternal with
God because we find them mentioned in the book of Genesis ;
but when they were created, we find not. Why truth in-
structing us may we not understand that that formless mat-
ter, which the Scripture calls the earth invisible and without
form, and the darksome deep, have been made by God
328 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XII,
out o nothing, and therefore that they are not co-eternal
with Him, although that narrative hath failed to tell when
they were made?"
CHAP. xxin. Two kinds of disagreements In the books to be
explained.
32. These things, therefore, being heard and perceived
according to my weakness of apprehension, which I confess
unto Thee, O Lord, who knowest it, I see that two sorts
of differences may arise when by signs anything is related,
even by true reporters, one concerning the truth of the
things, the other concerning the meaning of him who reports
them, , For in one way we inquire, concerning the forming
of the creature, what is true 5 but in another, what Moses,
that excellent servant of Thy faith, would have wished that
the reader and hearer should understand by these words. As
for the first kind, let all those depart from me who imagine
themselves to know as true what is false. And as for the
other also, let all depart from me who imagine Moses to
have spoken things that are false. But let me be united in
Thee, O Lord, with them, and in Thee delight myself with
them that feed on Thy truth, in the breadth of charity 5 and
let us approach together unto the words of Thy book, and in
them make search for Thy will, through the will of Thy
servant by whose pen Thou hast dispensed them.
CHAP. xxiv. Out of the many true things, it is not asserted con-
fidently that Moses understood this or that.
33. But which of us, amid so many truths which occur to
inquirers in these words, understood as they are in different
ways, shall so discover that one interpretation as to confi-
dently say "that Moses thought this," and "that in that nar-
CHAP. XXV.] WHAT MOSES MEANT 329
rative he wished this to be understood," as confidently as
he says "that this is true/' whether he thought this thing
or the other? For behold, O my God, I Thy servant, who
in this book have vowted unto Thee a sacrifice of confession,
and beseech Thee that of Thy mercy I may pay my vows
unto Thee, behold, can I, as I confidently assert that Thou
in Thy immutable word hast created all things, invisible and
visible, with equal confidence assert that Moses meant noth-
ing else than this when he wrote, "In the beginning God
created the heaven and the earth." No. Because it is not
as clear to me that this was in his mind when he wrote these
things, as I see it to be certain in Thy truth. For his thoughts
might be set upon the very beginning of the creation when
he said, "In the beginning 5" and he might wish it to be
understood that, in this place "the heaven and the earth"
were no formed and perfect nature, whether spiritual or
corporeal, but each of them newly begun, and as yet form-
less. Because I see, that whichsoever of these had been said,
it might have been said truly; but which of them he may
have thought in these words, I do not so perceive. Although,
whether it were one of these, or some other meaning which
has not been mentioned by me, that this great man saw in
his mind when he used these words, I make no doubt but
that he saw it truly, and expressed it suitably.
CHAP. xxv. It behoves interpreters, when disagreeing concerning
obscure places, to regard God the Author of truth, and the
rule of charity.
34. Let no one now trouble me by saying, "Moses thought
not as you say, but as I say." For should he ask me,
"Whence knowest thou that Moses thought this which you
deduce from his words?" I ought to take it contentedly,,
33O CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XII/
and reply perhaps as I have before, or somewhat more fully
should he be obstinate. But when he says, "Moses meant
not what you say, but what I say," and yet denies not what
each of us says, and that both are true, O my God, life of the
poor, in whose bosom there is no contradiction, pour down
into my heart Thy soothings, that I may patiently bear with
such as say this to mej not because they are divine, and
because they have seen in the heart of Thy servant what
they say, but because they are proud, and have not known
the opinion of Moses, but love their own, not because it
is true, but because it is their own. Otherwise they would
equally love another true opinion, as I love what they say
when they speak what is true; not because it is theirs, but
because it is true, and therefore now not theirs because true.
But if they therefore love that because it is true, it is now
both theirs and mine, since it is common to all the lovers of
truth. But because they contend that Moses meant not what
I say, but what they themselves say, this I neither like nor
love y because, though it were so, yet that rashness is not of
knowledge, but of audacityj and not vision, but vanity
brought it forth. And therefore, O Lord, are Thy judg-
ments to be dreaded, since Thy truth is neither mine, nor
his, nor another's, but of all of us, whom Thou publicly call-
est to have it in common, warning us terribly not to hold it as
specially for ourselves, lest we be deprived of it. For who-
soever claims for himself as his own that which Thou ap-
pointed to all to enjoy, and desires that to be his own which
belongs to all, is forced away from what is common to all to
that which is his own that is, from truth to falsehood. For
he that "speaketh a lie, speaketh of his own."
35. Hearken, O God, Thou best Judge! Truth itself,
hearken to what I shall say to this gainsayer; hearken, for
CHAP. XXVI.] THE LAW OF LOVE TO BE MAINTAINED 33!
before Thee I say it, and before my brethren who use Thy
law lawfully, to the end of charity; hearken and behold
what I shall say to him, if it be pleasing unto Thee. For
this brotherly and peaceful word do I return unto him: "If
we both see that that which thou sayest is true, and if we
both see that what I say is true, where, I ask, do we see it?
Certainly not I in thee, nor thou in me, but both in the un-
changeable truth itself, which is above our minds." When,
therefore, we may not contend about the very light of the
Lord our God, why do we contend about the thoughts of our
neighbour, which we cannot so see as incommutable truth is
seen 5 when, if Moses himself had appeared to us and said,
"This I meant," not so should we see it, but believe it? Let
us not, then, "be puffed up for one against the other," above
that which is written 5 let us love the Lord our God with all
our heart, with all our soul, and with all our mind, and our
neighbour as ourself. As to which two precepts of charity,
unless we believe that Moses meant whatever in these books
he did mean, we shall make God a liar when we think other-
wise concerning our fellow-servants' mind than He hath
taught us. Behold, now, how foolish it is, in so great an
abundance of the truest opinions which can be extracted from
these words, rashly to affirm which of them Moses particu-
larly meant 5 and. with pernicious contentions to offend
charity itself, on account of which he hath spoken all the
things whose words we endeavour to explain!
CHAP. xxvi. What he might have asked of God had he been
enjoined to write the book of Genesis.
36. And yet, O my God, Thou exaltation of my humility,
and rest of my labour, who hearest my confessions, and f or-
givest my sins, since Thou commandest me that I should love:
332 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XII.
my neighbour as myself, I cannot believe that Thou gavest
to Moses, Thy most faithful servant, a less gift than I should
wish and desire for myself from Thee, had I been born in his
time, and hadst Thou placed me in that position that through
the service of my heart and of my tongue those books might
be distributed, which so long after were to profit all nations,
and through the whole world, from so great a pinnacle of
authority, were to surmount the words of all false and proud
teachings. I should have wished truly had I then been
Moses (for we all come from the same massj and what is
man, saving that Thou art mindful of him? ) . I should then,
had I been at that time what he was, and enjoined by
Thee to write the book of Genesis, have wished that such a
power of expression and such a method of arrangement
should be given me, that they who cannot as yet understand
how God creates might not reject the words as surpassing
their powers; and they who are already able to do this, would
find, in what true opinion soever they had by thought ar-
rived at, that it was not passed over in the few words of
Thy servant 5 and should another man by the light of truth
have discovered another, neither should that fail to be
found in those same words.
CHAP, xxvii. The style of sneaking In the look of Genesis is
simple and, clear.
37. For as a fountain in a limited space is more plentiful,
and affords supply for more streams over larger spaces than
any one of those streams which, after a wide interval, is
derived from the same fountain j so the narrative of Thy
dispenser, destined to benefit many who were likely to
discourse thereon, does, from a limited measure of language,
overflow into streams of clear truth, whence each one may
CHAP. XXVIII.] DIFFERENT VIEWS OF TRUTH 333
draw out for himself that truth which he can concerning
these subjects, this one that truth, that one another, by
larger circumlocutions of discourse. For some, when they
read or hear these words, think that God as a man or some
mass gifted with immense power, by some new and sudden
resolve, had, outside itself, as if at distant places, created
heaven and earth, two great bodies above and below, wherein
all things were to be contained. And when they hear, God
said, Let it be made, and it was made, they think of words
begun and ended, sounding in times and passing away, after
the departure of which that came into being which was com-
manded to be 5 and whatever else of the kind their familiarity
with the world would suggest. In whom, being as yet little
ones, while their weakness by this humble kind of speech is
carried on as if in a mother's bosom, their faith is health-
fully built up, by which they have and hold as certain that
God made all natures, which in wondrous variety their senses
perceive on every side. Which words, if any one despising
them, as if trivial, with proud weakness shall have stretched
himself beyond his fostering cradle, he will, alas, fall mis-
erably. Have pity, O Lord God, lest they who pass by
trample on the unfledged bird; and send Thine angel, who
may restore it to its nest, that it may live until it can fly.
CHAP, xxviii. The words, "In the beginning" and, "The heaven
and the earth," are differently understood.
38. But others, to whom these words are no longer a nest,
but shady fruit-bowers, see the fruits concealed in them, fly
around rejoicing, and chirpingly search and pluck them.
For they see when they read or hear these words, O God,
that all times past and future are surmounted by Thy eternal
and stable abiding, and still that there is no temporal crea-
334 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XII.
ture which Thou art, made. And by Thy will, because
it is that which Thou art, Thou hast made all things, not
by any changed will, nor by a will which before was not,
not out o Thyself, in Thine own likeness, the form of all
things, but out of nothing, a formless unlikeness which
should be formed by Thy likeness (having recourse to Thee
the One, after their settled capacity, according as it has been
given to each thing in his kind) , and might all be made very
goodj whether they remain around Thee, or, being by de-
grees removed in time and place, make or undergo beautiful
variations. These things they see, and rejoice in the light
of Thy truth, in the little degree they here may.
39. Again, another of these directs his attention to that
which is said, "In the beginning God made the heaven and
the earth/ 5 and beholdeth Wisdom, the Beginning, be-
cause It also speaketh unto us. Another likewise directs his
attention to the same words, and by "beginning" under-
stands the commencement of things created 5 and receives it
thus, In the beginning He made, as if it w'ere said, He at
first made. And among those who understand "In the
beginning" to mean, that "in Thy Wisdom Thou hast
created heaven and earth," one believes that matter out of
which the heaven and earth were to be created to be there
called "heaven and earth;" another, that they are natures
already formed and distinct 5 another, one formed nature,
and that a spiritual, under the name of heaven, the other
formless, of corporeal matter, under the name of earth.
But they who under the name of "heaven and earth" under-
stand matter as yet formless, out of which were to be formed
heaven and earth, do not themselves understand it in one
manner; but one, that matter out of which the intelligible
CHAP. XXIX.] VERSION OF "iN THE BEGINNING" 335
and the sensible creature were to be completed 5 another,
that only out of which this sensible corporeal mass was to
come, holding in its vast bosom these visible and prepared
natures. Nor are they who believe that the creatures already
set in order and arranged are in this place called heaven and
earth of one accord but the one, both the invisible and
visible, the other, the visible only, in which we admire the
luminous heaven and darksome earth, and the things that
are therein.
CHAP. xxix. Concerning the opinion of those who explain itj
"At first He made."
40. But he who does not otherwise understand, "In the
beginning He made," than if it were said, "At first He
made," can only truly understand heaven and earth of the
matter of heaven and earth, namely, of the universal, that
is, intelligible and corporeal creation. For if he would have
it of the universe, as already formed, it might rightly be
asked of him: "If at first God made this, what made He
afterwards?" And after the universe he will find nothing;
thereupon must he, though unwilling, hear, "How is this
first, if there is nothing afterwards?" But when he says
that God made matter first formless, then formed, he is
not absurd if he be but able to discern what precedes by
eternity, what by time, what by choice, what by origin. By
eternity, as God is before all things; by time, as the flower
is before the fruit j by choice, as the fruit is before the
flower; by origin, as sound is before the tune. Of these
four, the first and last which I have referred to are with
much difficulty understood; the two middle very easily. For
an uncommon and too lofty vision it is to behold, O Lord,
Thy Eternity, immutably making things mutable, and
336 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XII.
thereby before them. Who is so acute of mind as to be able
without great labour to discover how the sound is prior to
the tune, because a tune is a formed sound 5 and a thing not
formed may exist, but that which existeth not cannot be
formed? So is the matter prior to that which is made from
itj not prior because it maketh it, since itself is rather made,
nor is it prior by an interval of time. For we do not as
to time first utter formless sounds without singing, and then
adapt or fashion them into the form of a song, just as wood
or silver from which a chest or vessel is made. Because
such materials do by time also precede the forms of the
things wfeich are made from them; but in singing this is not
so. For when it is sung, its sound is heard at the same time 3
seeing there is not first a formless sound, which is afterwards
formed into a song. For as soon as it shall have first
sounded it passeth away5 nor canst thou find anything of it,
which being recalled thou canst by art compose. And, there-
fore, the song is absorbed in its own sound, which sound of
it is its matter. Because this same is formed that it may be
a tune 5 and therefore, as I was saying, the matter of the
sound is prior to the form of the tune, not before through
any power of making it a tune; for neither is a sound the
composer of the tune, but is sent forth from the body and
is subjected to the soul of the singer, that from it he may
form a tune. Nor is it first in time, for it is given forth
together with the tune 5 nor first in choice, for a sound is
not better than a tune, since a tune is not merely a sound,
but a beautiful sound. But it is first in origin, because the
tune is not formed that it may become a sound, but the sound
is formed that it may become a tune. By this example, let
him who is able to understand that the matter of things was
first made, and called heaven and earth, because out of It
CHAP. XXX.] MOSES SAW THE TRUTH 337
heaven and earth were made. Not that it was made first in
time, because the forms of things give rise to time, but that
was formless j but now, in time, it is perceived together with
its form. Nor yet can anything be related concerning that
matter, unless as if it were prior in time, while it is considered
last (because things formed are assuredly superior to things
formless), and is preceded by the Eternity of the Creator,
so that there might be out of nothing that from which some-
thing might be made*
CHAP. xxx. In the great diversity of opinions, It becomes all to
unite charity and Divine Truth.
41. In this diversity of true opinions let Truth itself beget
concord; and may our God have mercy upon us, that we may
use the law lawfully, the end of the commandment, pure
charity. And by this if any one asks of me, "Which of these
was the meaning of Thy servant Moses?" these were not the
utterances of my confessions, should I not confess unto Thee,
"I know not;" and yet I know that those opinions are true,
with the exception of those carnal ones concerning which I
have spoken what I thought well. However, these Words of
Thy Book affright not those little ones of good hope, treat-
ing few of high things in a humble fashion, and few things in
varied ways. But let all, whom I acknowledge to see and
speak the truth in these words, love one another, and equally
love Thee, our God, fountain of truth, if we thirst not for
vain things, but for it 5 yea, let us so honour this servant of
Thine, the dispenser of this Scripture, full of Thy Spirit,
as to believe that when Thou revealedst Thyself to him, and
he wrote these things, he intended that which in them chiefly
excels both for light of truth and fruitf ulness of profit*
33 8 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XII.
CHAP. xxxi. Moses is suffosed to have 'perceived whatever of
truth can be discovered In his words.
42. Thus, when one shall say, "He [Moses] meant as
I do," and another, "Nay, but as I do," I suppose that I am
speaking more religiously when I say, "Why not rather as
both, if both be true?" And if there be a third truth, or a
fourth, and if any one seek any truth altogether different
in those words, why may not he be believed to have seen all
these, through whom one God hath tempered the Holy
Scriptures to the senses of many, about to see therein things
true but different? I certainly, and I fearlessly declare it
from my heart, were I to write anything to have the
highest authority, should prefer so to write, that whatever
of truth any one might apprehend concerning these matters,
my words should re-echo, rather than that I should set down
one true opinion so clearly on this as that I should exclude the
rest, that which was false in which could not offend me.
Therefore am I unwilling, O my God, to be so headstrong as
not to believe that from Thee this man [Moses] hath re-
ceived so much. He, surely, when he wrote those words,
perceived and thought whatever truth we have been able to
discover, yea, and whatever we have not been able, nor
yet are able, though still it may be found in them.
CHAP. xxxn. First, the sense of the writer is to be discovered,
then that is to be brought out which Divine Truth intended.
43. Finally, O Lord, who art God, and not flesh and
blood, if man doth see anything less, can anything lie hid
from "Thy good Spirit," who shall "lead me into the land
of uprightness," which Thou Thyself, by those words, wert
about to reveal to future readers, although he through whom
CHAP. XXXII.] DIVINE TRUTH 339
they were spoken, amid the many interpretations that might
have been found, fixed on but one? Which, if it be so, let
that which he thought on be more exalted than the rest. But
to us, O Lord, either point out the same, or any other true
one which may be pleasing unto Thee so that whether Thou
makest known to us that which Thou didst to that man of
Thine, or some other by occasion of the same words, yet
Thou mayest feed us, not error deceive us. Behold, O Lord
my God, how many things we have written concerning a few
words, how many, I beseech Thee! What strength of
ours, what ages would suffice for all Thy books after this
manner? Permit me, therefore, in these more briefly to con-
fess unto Thee, and to select some one true, certain, and good
sense, that Thou shalt inspire, although many senses offer
themselves, where many, indeed, mayj this being the faith
of my confession, that if I should say that which Thy min-
ister felt, rightly and profitably, this I should strive for j the
which if I shall not attain, yet I may say that which Thy
Truth willed through Its words to say unto me, which said
also unto him what It willed.
BOOK THIRTEENTH
WF THE GOODNESS OF GOB EXPLAINED IN THE CREATION OF THINGS, AND
OF THE TRINITY AS FOUND IN THE FIRST WORDS OF GENESIS. THE
STORY CONCERNING THE ORIGIN OF THE WORLD (GEN. I.) IS ALLE-
GORICALLY EXPLAINED, AND HE APPLIES IT TO THOSE THINGS WHICH
GOD WORKS FOR SANCTIFIED AND BLESSED MAN. FINALLY, HE MAKES
AN END OF THIS WORK, HAVING IMPLORED ETERNAL REST FROM GOD.
CHAP. i. He calls upon God) and proposes to himself to worship
Him.
i. T CALL upon Thee, my God, my mercy, who madest
JL me, and who didst not forget me, though forgetful
of Thee; I call Thee into my soul, which by the desire
which Thou inspirest in it Thou preparest for Thy reception.
Do not Thou forsake me calling upon Thee, who didst antici-
pate me before I called, and didst importunately urge with
manifold calls that I should hear Thee from afar, and be
converted, and call upon Thee who calledst me. For Thou,
Lord, hast blotted out all my evil deserts, that Thou
mightest not repay into my hands wherewith I have fallen
from Thee, and thou hast anticipated all my good deserts,
that Thou mightest repay into Thy hands wherewith Thou
madest me ; because before I was, Thou wast, nor was I [any-
thing] to which Thou mightest grant being. And yet behold,
1 am, out of Thy goodness, anticipating all this which Thou
hast made me, and of which Thou hast made me. For neither
hadst Thou stood in need of me, nor am I such a good as to
be helpful unto Thee, my Lord and God; not that I may
so serve Thee as though Thou wert fatigued in working, or
lest Thy power may be less if lacking my assistance j nor that,
340
CHAP. II.] DIVINE GOODNESS 341
like the land, I may so cultivate Thee that Thou wouldest
be uncultivated did I cultivate Thee not 5 but that I may
serve and worship Thee, to the end that I may have well-
being from Thee, from whom it is that I am one susceptible
of well-being.
CHAP. ii. All creatures subsist from the plenitude of divine
goodness.
2. For the plenitude of Thy goodness Thy creature sub-
sists, that a good, which could profit Thee nothing, nor
though of Thee was equal to Thee, might yet be, since it
could be made of Thee. For what did heaven and earth,
which Thou madest in the beginning, deserve of Thee? Let
those spiritual and corporeal natures, which Thou in Thy
wisdom madest, declare what they deserve of Thee to depend
thereon, even the inchoate and formless, each in its own
kind, either spiritual or corporeal, going into excess, and into
remote unlikeness unto Thee (the spiritual, though formless,
more excellent than if it were a formed body 5 and the cor-
poreal, though formless, more excellent than if it were alto-
gether nothing), and thus they as formless would depend
upon Thy Word, unless by the same Word they were re-
called to Thy Unity, and endued with form, and from Thee,
the one sovereign Good, were all made very good. How
have they deserved of Thee, that they should be even form-
less, since they would not be even this except from Thee?
3. How has corporeal matter deserved of Thee, to be even
invisible and formless, since it were not even this hadst Thou
not made it; and therefore since it was not, it could not de-
serve of Thee that it should be made? Or how could the
inchoate spiritual creature deserve of Thee, that even it
should flow darksomely like the deep, unlike Thee, had it
CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XIII.
not been by the same Word turned to that by Whom it was
created, and by Him so enlightened become light, although
not equally, yet conformably to that Form which is equal
unto Thee? For as to a body, to be is not all one with being
beautiful, for then it could not be deformed ; so also to a
created spirit to live is not all one with living wisely, for then
it would be wise unchangeably. But it is good for it always
to hold fast unto Thee, lest, in turning from Thee, it lose
that light which it hath obtained in turning to Thee, and re-
lapse into a light resembling the darksome deep. For even
we ourselves, who in respect of the soul are a spiritual crea-
ture, having turned away from Thee, our light, were in that
life "sometimes darkness j" and do labour amidst the remains
of our darkness, until in Thy Only One we become Thy
righteousness, like the mountains of God. For we have been
Thy judgments, which are like the great deep.
CHAP. in. Genesis i. 3, Of "light" he understands as it is seen
in the spiritual creature.
4. But what Thou saidst in the beginning of the creation,
"Let there be light, and there was light," I do not unfitly
understand of the spiritual creature 5 because there was even
then a kind of life, which Thou mightest illuminate. But as
it had not deserved of Thee that it should be such a life as
could be enlightened, so neither, when it already was, hath it
deserved of Thee that it should be enlightened. For neither
could its formlessness be pleasing unto Thee, unless it became
light, not by merely existing, but by beholding the illu-
minating light, and cleaving unto it 5 so also, that it lives,
and lives happily, it owes to nothing whatsoever but to Thy
grace j being converted by means of a better change unto that
which can be changed neither into better nor into worse 5 the
CHAP. IV.] THE GRACE OF GOD 343
which Thou only art because Thou only simply art, to whom
it is not one thing to live, another to live blessedly, since
Thou art Thyself Thine own Blessedness.
CHAP. iv. All things have been created by the grace of God, and
are not of Him as standing in need of created things.
5. What, therefore, could there be wanting unto Thy
good, which Thou Thyself art, although these things had
either never been, or had remained formless, the which
Thou madest not out of any want, but out of the plenitude
of Thy goodness, restraining them and converting them to
form not as though Thy joy were perfected by them? For
to Thee, being perfect, their imperfection is displeasing, and
therefore were they perfected by Thee, and were pleasing
unto Thee j but not as if Thou wert imperfect, and wert to be
perfected in their perfection. For Thy good Spirit was borne
over the waters, not borne up by them as if He rested upon
them. For those in whom Thy good Spirit is said to rest, He
causes to rest in Himself. But Thy incorruptible and un-
changeable will, which in itself is all-sufficient for itself, was
borne over that life which Thou hadst made, to which to
live is not all one with living happily, since, flowing in its
own darkness, it liveth also 5 for which it remaineth to be
converted unto Him by whom it was made, and to live more
and more by "the fountain of life," and in His light to "see
light," and to be perfected, and enlightened, and made
happy.
CHAP. v. He recognises the Trinity in the first two verses of
Genesis.
6. Behold now, the Trinity appears unto me in an enigma,
which Thou, O my God, art, since Thou, O Father, in the
344 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XIII.
Beginning of our wisdom, Which is Thy Wisdom, born of
Thyself, equal and co-eternal unto Thee, that is, in Thy
Son, hast created heaven and earth. Many things have we
said of the heaven of heavens, and of the earth invisible and
formless, and of the darksome deep, in reference to the wan-
dering defects of its spiritual deformity, were it not con-
verted unto Him from whom was its life, such as it was, and
by His enlightening became a beauteous life, and the heaven
of that heaven which was afterwards set between water and
water. And under the name of God, I now held the Father,
who made these things 5 and under the name of the Begin-
ning, the Son, in whom He made these things 5 and believing,
as I did, that my God was the Trinity, I sought further in
His holy words, and behold, Thy Spirit was borne over the
waters. Behold the Trinity, O my God, Father, Son, and
Holy Ghost, the Creator of all creation.
CHAP. vi. Why the Holy Ghost should have "been mentioned after
the mention of heaven and earth.
7. But what was the cause, O Thou true-speaking Light?
Unto Thee do I lift up my heart, let it not teach me vain
things j disperse its darkness, and tell me, I beseech Thee, by
our mother charity, tell me, I beseech Thee, the reason why,
after the mention of heaven, and of the earth invisible
and formless, and darkness upon the deep, Thy Scripture
should then at length mention Thy Spirit? Was it because
it was meet that it should be spoken of Him that He was
"borne over," and this could not be said, unless that were first
mentioned "over" which Thy Spirit may be understood to
have been "borne?" For neither was he "borne over" the
CHAP. VII.] THE WORK OF THE HOLY GHOST 345
Father, nor the Son, nor could it rightly be said that He was
"borne over" if He were "borne over" nothing. That,
therefore, was first to be spoken of "over" which He might
be "borne 5" and then He, whom it was not meet to mention
otherwise than as having been "borne." Why, then, was it
not meet that it should otherwise be mentioned of Him, than
as having been "borne over?"
CHAP. vii. That the Holy Spirit brings us to God.
8. Hence let him that is able now follow Thy apostle
with his understanding where he thus speaks, because Thy
love "is shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost, which
is given unto us ;" and where, "concerning spiritual gifts," he
teacheth and showeth unto us a more excellent way of char-
ity j and where he bows his knees unto Thee for us, that we
may know the super-eminent knowledge of the love of
Christ. And, therefore, from the beginning was He super-
eminently "borne above the waters." To whom shall I tell
this? How speak of the weight of lustful desires, pressing
downwards to the steep abyss? and how charity raises us up
again, through Thy Spirit which was "borne over the wa-
ters?" To whom shall I tell it? How tell it? For neither are
there places in which we are merged and emerge. What can
be more like, and yet more unlike? They be affections, they
be loves j the filthiness of our spirit flowing away downwards
with the love of cares, and the sanctity of Thine raising us
upwards by the love of freedom from care; that we may lift
our hearts unto Thee where Thy Spirit is "borne over the
waters;" and that we may come to that pre-eminent rest,
when our soul shall have passed through the waters which
have no substance.
CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XIII.
CHAP. vin. That nothing whatever, short of God, can yield to the
rational creature a ha^y rest.
9. The angels fell, the soul of man fell, and they have
thus indicated the abyss in that dark deep, ready for the
whole spiritual creation, unless Thou hadst said from the
beginning, "Let there be light," and there had been light,
and every obedient intelligence of Thy celestial City had
cleaved to Thee, and rested in Thy Spirit, which unchange-
ably is "borne over" everything changeable. Otherwise,
even the heaven of heavens itself would have been a dark-
some deep, whereas now it is light in the Lord. For even
in that wretched restlessness of the spirits who fell away,
and, when unclothed of the garments of Thy light, dis-
covered their own darkness, dost Thou sufficiently disclose
how noble Thou hast made the rational creature 5 to which
nought which is inferior to Thee will suffice to yield a happy
rest, and so not even herself. For Thou, O our God, shalt
enlighten our darkness; from Thee are derived our gar-
ments of light, and then shall our darkness be as the noon-
day. Give Thyself unto me, O my God, restore Thyself
unto me; behold, I love Thee, and if it be too little, let me
love Thee more strongly. I cannot measure my love so that
I may come to know how much there is yet wanting in me,
ere my life run into Thy embracements, and not be turned
away until it be hidden in the secret place of Thy Presence.
This only I know, that woe is me except in Thee, not
only without, but even also within myself; and all plenty
which is not my God is poverty to me.
CHAP. ix. Why the Holy Spirit was only "borne over" the waters.
10. But was not either the Father or the Son "borne over
the waters?" If we understand this to mean in space, as
CHAP. X.] THE HOLY SPIRIT 347
a body, then neither was the Holy Spirit j but if the incom-
mutable super-eminence of Divinity above everything muta-
ble, then both Father, and Son, and Holy Ghost were borne
"over the waters." Why, then, is this said of Thy Spirit
only? Why is it said of Him alone? As if He had been in
place who is not in place, of whom only it is written, that
He is Thy gift? In Thy gift we rest; there we enjoy Thee.
Our rest is our place. Love lifts us up thither, and Thy
good Spirit lifteth our lowliness from the gates of death.
In Thy good pleasure lies our peace. The body by its own
weight gravitates towards its own place. Weight goes not
downward only, but to its own place. Fire tends upwards,
a stone downwards. They are propelled by their own
weights, they seek their own places. Oil poured under the
water is raised above the water; water poured upon oil sinks
under the oil. They are propelled by their own weights,
they seek their own places. Out of order, they are restless;
restored to order, they are at rest. My weight is my love;
by it am I borne whithersoever I am borne. By Thy Gift
we are inflamed, and are borne upwards; we wax hot in-
wardly, and go forwards. We ascend Thy ways that be in
our heart, and sing a song of degrees; we glow inwardly
with Thy fire, with Thy good fire, and we go, because we
go upwards to the peace of Jerusalem; for glad was I when
they said unto me, "Let us go into the house of the Lord."
There hath Thy good pleasure placed us, that we may de-
sire no other thing than to dwell there for ever.
CHAP. x. That nothing arose save by the gift of God.
II. Happy creature, which, though in itself it was other
than Thou, hath known no other state than that as soon as it
was made, it was, without any interval of time, by Thy Gift,
348 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XIII,
which is borne over everything mutable, raised up by that
calling whereby Thou saidst, "Let there be light, and there
was light." Whereas in us there is a difference of times, in
that we were darkness, and are made light 5 but of that it is
only said what it would have been had it not been en-
lightened. And this is so spoken as if it had been fleeting
and darksome before 5 that so the cause whereby it was made
to be otherwise might appear, that is to say, being turned
to the unfailing Light it might become light. Let him who
is able understand this 5 and let him who is not, ask of Thee.
Why should he trouble me, as if I could enlighten any "man
that cometh into the world?"
CHAP. xi. That the symbols of the Trinity in man y To Be, To
y and To Will, are never thoroughly examined.
12. Which of us understandeth the Almighty Trin-
ity (3) - ? And Y et which speaketh not of It, if indeed it be
It? Rare is that soul which, while it speaketh of It, knows
what it speaketh of. And they contend and strive, but no
one without peace seeth that vision. I could wish that men
would consider these three things that are in themselves.
These three are far other than the Trinity 5 but I speak of
things in which they may exercise and prove themselves, and
feel how far other they be (31). But the three things I
speak of are, To Be, to Know, and to Will. For I Am, and
I Know, and I Will I Am Knowing and Willing ; and I
Know myself to Be and to Will 5 and I Will to Be and to
Know. In these three, therefore, let him who can see how
inseparable a life there is, even one life, one mind, and
one essence j finally, how inseparable is the distinction, and
yet a distinction. Surely a man hath it before him 5 let him
look into himself, and see, and tell me. But when he dis-
CHAP. XII. ] AN EMBLEM OF THE CHURCH 349
covers and can say, anything of these, let him not then think
that he has discovered that which is above these Unchange-
able, which Is unchangeably, and Knows unchangeably, and
Wills unchangeably. And whether on account of these
three there is also, where they are, a Trinity; or whether
these three be in Each, so that the three belong to Each 5 or
whether both ways at once, wondrously, simply, and yet
diversely, in Itself a limit unto Itself, yet illimitable;
whereby It is, and is known unto Itself, and sufficeth to It-
self, unchangeably the Self-same, by the abundant magni-
tude of its Unity, who can readily conceive? Who in any
wise express it? Who in any way rashly pronounce thereon?
CHAP. XH. Allegorical explanation of Genesis, chaf. 2., concern-
ing the origin of the Church and its worship.
13. Proceed in thy confession, say to the Lord thy God,
O my faith, Holy, Holy, Holy, O Lord my God, in Thy
name have we been baptized, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
in Thy name do we baptize, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,
because among us also in His Christ did God make heaven
and earth, namely, the spiritual and carnal people of His
Church. Yea, and our earth, before it received the "form
of doctrine," was invisible and formless, and we were cov-
ered with the darkness of ignorance* For Thou correctest
man for iniquity, and "Thy judgments are a great deep."
But because Thy Spirit was "borne over the waters," Thy
mercy forsook not our misery, and Thou saidst, "Let there
be light," "Repent ye, for the kingdom of heaven is at
hand." Repent ye, let there be light. And because our
soul was troubled within us, we remembered Thee, O Lord,
from the land of Jordan, and that mountain equal unto
Thyself x but little for our sakes; and upon our being dis-
350 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XIII.
pleased with our darkness, we turned unto Thee, a and there
was light." And, behold, we were sometimes darkness, but
now light in the Lord.
CHAP. xni. That the renewal of man is not completed In this
world.
14. But as yet "by faith, not by sight," for "we are saved
by hope 5 but hope that is seen is not hope." As yet deep
calleth unto deep but in "the noise of Thy waterspouts."
And as yet doth he that saith, I "could not speak unto you
as unto spiritual, but as unto carnal," even he, as yet, doth
not count himself to have apprehended, and forgetteth those
things which are behind, and reacheth forth to those things
which are before, and groaneth being burdened, and his soul
thirsteth after the living God, as the hart after the water-
brooks, and saith, "When shall I come?" "desiring to be
clothed upon with his house which is from heaven 5" and
calleth upon this lower deep, saying, "Be not conformed to
this world, but be ye transformed by the renewing of your
mind." And, "Be not children in understanding, howbeit in
malice be ye children," that in "understanding ye may be
perfect 5" and "O foolish Galatians, who hath bewitched
you?" But now: not in his own voice, but in Thine who sentest
Thy Spirit from above $ through Him who "ascended up on
high," and set open the flood-gates of His gifts, that the
force of His streams might make glad the city of God. For,
for Him doth "the friend of the bridegroom" sigh, having
now the first-fruits of the Spirit laid up with Him, yet still
groaning within himself, waiting for the adoption, to wit,
the redemption of his body; to Him he sighs, for he is a
member of the Bride 5 for Him is he jealous, for he is the
friend of the Bridegroom j for Him is he jealous, not for
CHAP. XIV.] THE CHILDREN OF HOPE 351
himself 5 because in the voice of Thy "waterspouts," not in
his own voice, doth he call on that other deep, for whom
being jealous he feareth, lest that, as the serpent beguiled
Eve through his subtilty, so their minds should be corrupted
from the simplicity that is in our Bridegroom, Thine only
Son. What a light of beauty will that be when "we shall
see Him as He is," and those tears be passed away which
"have been my meat day and night, while they continually
say unto me, Where is thy God?"
CHAP. xiv. That out of the children of the night and of the
darkness, children of the light and of the day are made.
15. And so say I too, O my God, where art Thou?
Behold where Thou art! In Thee I breathe a little, when I
pour out my soul by myself in the voice of joy and praise,
the sound of him that keeps holy-day. And yet it is "cast
down," because it relapses and becomes a deep, or rather it
feels that it is still a deep. Unto it doth my faith speak
which Thou hast kindled to enlighten my feet in the night,
"Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou
disquieted in me? hope thou in God 5" His "word is a lamp
unto my feet." Hope and endure until the night, the
mother of the wicked, until the anger of the Lord be over-
past, whereof we also were once children who were some-
times darkness, the remains whereof we carry about us in our
body, dead on account of sin, "until the day break and the
shadows flee away." "Hope thou in the Lord." In the
morning I shall stand in Thy presence, and contemplate
Thee 5 I shall for ever confess unto Thee. In the morning
I shall stand in Thy presence, and shall see "the health of
my countenance," my God, who also shall quicken our mor-
tal bodies by the Spirit that dwelleth in us, because in mercy
35% _ CONFESSION'S OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XIII.
He was borne over our inner darksome and floating deep.
Whence we have in this pilgrimage received "an earnest"
that we should now be light, whilst as yet we "are saved by
hope/' and are the children of light, and the children of the
day, not the children of the night nor of the darkness,
which yet we have been. Betwixt whom and us, in this
as yet uncertain state of human knowledge, Thou only
dividest, who provest our hearts and callest the light day,
and the darkness night. For who discerneth us but Thou?
But what have we that we have not received of Thee? Out
of the same lump vessels unto honour, of which others also
are made to dishonour.
CHAP* xv. Allegorical explanation of the firmament and uffler
ver. 6.
1 6. Or who but Thou, our God, made for us that firma-
ment of authority over us in Thy divine Scripture? As it
is said, For heaven shall be folded up like a scroll} and now
it is extended over us like a skin. For Thy divine Scripture
is of more sublime authority, since those mortals through
whom Thou didst dispense it unto us underwent mortality.
And Thou knowest, O Lord, Thou knowest, how Thou with
skins didst clothe men when by sin they became mortal.
Whence as a skin hast Thou stretched out the firmament of
Thy Book 3 that is to say, Thy harmonious words, which by
the ministry of mortals Thou hast spread over us. For by
their very death is that solid firmament of authority in Thy
discourses set forth by them more sublimely extended above
all things that are under it, the which, while they were living
here, was not so eminently extended. Thou hadst not as yet
spread abroad the heaven like a skin $ Thou hadst not as yet
noised everywhere the report of their deaths.
CHAP. XV.] THE SYMBOLICAL HEAVEN 353
17. Let us look, O Lord, "upon the heavens, the work of
Thy fingers ;" clear from our eyes that mist with which Thou
hast covered them. There is that testimony of Thine which
giveth wisdom unto the little ones. Perfect, O my God,
Thy praise out of the mouth of babes and sucklings. Nor
have we known any other books so destructive to pride, so
destructive to the enemy and the defender, who resisteth
Thy reconciliation in defence of his own sins. I know not,
O Lord, I know not other such "pure" words which so per-
suade me to confession, and make my neck submissive to Thy
yoke, and invite me to serve Thee for nought. Let me un-
derstand these things, good Father. Grant this to me, placed
under them ; because Thou hast established these things for
those placed under them.
1 8. Other "waters" there be "above" this "firmament," I
believe immortal, and removed from earthly corruption.
Let them praise Thy Name, those super-celestial people,
Thine angels, who have no need to look up at this firmament,
or by reading to attain the knowledge of Thy Word, let
them praise Thee. For they always behold Thy face, and
therein read without any syllables in time what Thy eternal
will willeth. They read, they choose, they love. They are
always reading ; and that which they read never passeth
away. For, by choosing and by loving, they read the very
unchangeableness of Thy counsel. Their book is not closed,
nor is the scroll folded up, because Thou Thyself art this
to them, yea, and art so eternally ; because Thou hast ap-
pointed them above this firmament, which Thou hast made
firm over the weakness of the lower people, where they
might look up and learn Thy mercy, announcing in time
Thee who hast made times. "For Thy mercy, O Lord, is
in the heavens, and Thy faithfulness reacheth unto the
354 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XIII.
clouds." The clouds pass away, but the heaven remaineth.
The preachers of Thy Word pass away from this life into
another 5 but Thy Scripture is spread abroad over the people,
even to the end of the world. Yea, both heaven and earth
shall pass away, but Thy Words shall not pass away. Be-
cause the scroll shall be rolled together, and the grass over
which it was spread shall with its goodliness pass away; but
Thy Word remaineth for ever, which now appeareth unto
us in the dark image of the clouds, and through the glass of
the heavens, not as it is; because we also, although we be
the well-beloved of Thy Son, yet it hath not yet appeared
what we shall be. He looketh through the lattice of our
flesh, and He is fair-speaking, and hath inflamed us, and we
run after His odours. But "when He shall appear, then
shall we be like Him, for we shall see Him as He is." As
He is, O Lord, shall we see Him, although the time be not
yet.
CHAP. xvi. That no one but the Unchangeable Light knows
Hmself.
19. For altogether as Thou art, Thou only knowest,
Who art unchangeably, and knowest unchangeably, and
wiliest unchangeably. And Thy Essence Knoweth and
Willeth unchangeably ; and Thy Knowledge Is, and Willeth
unchangeably; and Thy Will Is, and Knoweth unchange-
ably. Nor doth it appear just to Thee, that as the Un-
changeable Light knoweth Itself, so should It be known by
that which is enlightened and changeable. Therefore unto
Thee is my soul as "land where no water is," because as it
cannot of itself enlighten itself, so it cannot of itself satisfy
itself. For so is the fountain of life with Thee, like as in
Thy light we shall see light.
CHAP. XVII.] THE SYMBOLICAL EARTH AND SEA 355
CHAP. XVII. Allegorical explanation of the sea and the fruit~bear-
ing earth verses g-ii.
20. Who hath gathered the embittered together into one
society? For they have all the same end, that of temporal
and earthly happiness, on account of which they do all things,
although they may fluctuate with an innumerable variety of
cares. Who, O Lord, unless Thou, saidst, Let the waters be
gathered together into one place, and let the dry land appear,
which "thirsteth after Thee"? For the sea also is Thine,
and Thou hast made it, and Thy hands prepared the dry
land. For neither is the bitterness of men's wills, but the
gathering together of waters called sea; for Thou even
curbest the wicked desires of men's souls, and fixest their
bounds, how far they may be permitted to advance, and that
their waves may be broken against each other ; and thus dost
Thou make it a sea, by the order of Thy dominion over all
things.
21. But as for the souls that thirst after Thee, and that
appear before Thee (being by other bounds divided from
the society of the sea), them Thou waterest by a secret and
sweet spring, that the earth may bring forth her fruit, and,
Thou, O Lord God, so commanding, our soul may bud forth
works of mercy according to their kind, loving our neigh-
bour in the relief of his bodily necessities, having seed in it-
self according to its likeness, when from our infirmity we
compassionate even to the relieving of the needy 5 helping
them in a like manner as we would that help should be
brought unto us if we were in a like need 5 not only in the
things that are easy, as in "herb yielding seed,' 7 but also in
the protection of our assistance, in our very strength, like
the tree yielding fruit j that is, a good turn in delivering him
_ CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XIII.
who suffers an injury from the hand of the powerful, and
in furnishing him with the shelter of protection by the
mighty strength of just judgment.
CHAP, xvill. Of the lights and stars of heaven of day and nighty
ver.
22. Thus, O Lord, thus, I beseech Thee, let there arise,
as Thou makest, as Thou givest joy and ability, let "truth
spring out of the earth, and righteousness look down from
heaven," and let there be "lights in the firmament." Let
us break our bread to the hungry, and let us bring the house-
less poor to our house. Let us clothe the naked, and despise
not those of our own flesh. The which fruits having sprung
forth from the earth, behold, because it is good; and let our
temporary light burst forth 5 and let us, from this inferior
fruit of action, possessing the delights of contemplation and
of the Word of Life above, let us appear as lights in the
world, clinging to the firmament of Thy Scripture. For
therein Thou makest it plain unto us, that we may distinguish
between things intelligible and things of sense, as if between
the day and the night 5 or between souls, given, some to
things intellectual, others to things of sense 5 so that now
not Thou only in the secret of Thy judgment, as before the
firmament was made, dividest between the light and the
darkness, but Thy spiritual children also, placed and ranked
in the same firmament (Thy grace being manifest through-
out the world), may give light upon the earth, and divide
between the day and night, and be for signs of times j be-
cause "old things have passed away," and "behold all things
are become new;" and "because our salvation is nearer than
when we believed;" and because "the night is far spent, the
day is at handj" and because Thou wilt crown Thy year
CHAP. XVIII.] CONTEMPLATION AND ACTION 357
with blessing, sending the labourers of Thy goodness into
Thy harvest, in the sowing of which others have laboured,
sending also into another field, whose harvest shall be in the
end. Thus Thou grantest the prayers of him that asketh,
and blessest the years of the just 5 but Thou art the same,
and in Thy years which fail not Thou preparest a garner for
our passing years. For by an eternal counsel Thou dost in
their proper seasons bestow upon the earth heavenly bless-
ings.
23. For, indeed, to one is given by the Spirit the word
of wisdom, as if the greater light, on account of those who
are delighted with the light of manifest truth, as in the
beginning of the day 5 but to another the word of know-
ledge by the same Spirit, as if the lesser light ; to another
faith; to another the gift of healing j to another the work-
ing of miracles ; to another prophecy - ? to another the dis-
cerning of spirits 5 to another divers kinds of tongues. And
all these as stars. For all these worketh the one and self-
same Spirit, dividing to every man his own as He willeth;
and making stars appear manifestly, to profit withal. But
the word of knowledge, wherein are contained all sacra-
ments, which are varied in their periods like the moon, and
the other conceptions of gifts, which are successively reck-
oned up as stars, inasmuch as they come short of that splen-
dour of wisdom in which the fore-mentioned day rejoices,
are only for the beginning of the night. For they are
necessary to such as he Thy most prudent servant could not
speak unto as unto spiritual, but as unto carnal even he
who speaketh wisdom among those that are perfect. But
the natural man, as a babe in Christ, and a drinker of milk,
until he be strengthened for solid meat (32), and his eye
be enabled to look upon the Sun, let him not dwell in his
358 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XIII.
own deserted night, but let him be contented with the light
of the moon and the stars. Thou reasonest these things
with us, our All-wise God, in Thy Book, Thy firmament,
that we may discern all things in an admirable contemplation,
although as yet in signs, and in times, and in days, and in
years.
CHAP. XIX. All men should become lights in the firmament of
heaven.
24. But first, "Wash you, make you clean;" put away
iniquity from your souls, and from before mine eyes, that
the dry land may appear. "Learn to do well; judge the
fatherless 5 plead for the widow," that the earth may bring
forth the green herb for meat, and the tree bearing fruit 5
and come let us reason together, saith the Lord, that there
may be lights in the firmament of heaven, and that they
may shine upon the earth. That rich man asked of the
good Master what he should do to attain eternal life. Let
the good Master, whom he thought a man, and nothing
more, tell him (but He is "good" because He is God) let
Him tell him, that if he would "enter into life" he must
"keep the commandments}" let him banish from himself the
bitterness of malice and wickedness; let him not kill, nor
commit adultery, nor steal, nor bear false witness; that the
dry land may appear, and bud forth the honouring of
father and mother, and the love of our neighbour. All these,
saith he, have I kept. Whence, then, are there so many
thorns, if the earth be fruitful? Go, root up the woody
thicket of avarice; sell that thou hast, and be filled with fruit
by giving to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in
heaven; and follow the Lord "if thou wilt be perfect/*
CHAP, XIX.] GROWTH IN GRACE 359
coupled with those amongst whom He speaketh wisdom,
Who knoweth what to distribute to the day and to the night,
that thou also mayest know it, that for thee also there may
be lights in the firmament of heaven, which will not be
unless thy heart be there j which likewise also will not be
unless thy treasure be there, as thou hast heard from the
good Master. But the barren earth was grieved, and the
thorns choked the word.
2,5. But you, "chosen generation, you weak things of the
world," who have forsaken all things that you might "follow
the Lord," go after Him, and "confound the things which
are mighty $" go after Him, ye beautiful feet, and shine in
the firmament, that the heavens may declare His glory,
dividing between the light of the perfect, though not as of
the angels, and the darkness of the little, though not de-
spised ones. Shine over all the earth, and let the day,
lightened by the sun, utter unto day the word of wisdom 5
and let night, shining by the moon, announce unto night the
word of knowledge. The moon and the stars shine for the
night, but the night obscureth them not, since they illumine
it in its degree. For behold God (as it were) saying, "Let
there be lights in the firmament of the heaven." There
came suddenly a sound from heaven, as it had been the
rushing of a mighty wind, and there appeared cloven tongues
like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them. And there
were made lights in the firmament of heaven, having the
word of life. Run ye to and fro everywhere, ye holy fires,
ye beautiful fires 5 for ye are the light of the world, nor are
ye put under a bushel. He to whom ye cleave is exalted,
and hath exalted you. Run ye to and fro, and be known
unto all nations.
CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XIII.
CHAP. XX. Concerning reptiles and flying creatures (ver. 20) >
the sacrament of Baptism being regarded.
26. Let the sea also conceive and bring forth your works,
and let the waters bring forth the moving creatures that have
life* For ye, who "take forth the precious from the vile/ 5
have been made the mouth of God, through which He saith,
"Let the waters bring forth," not the living creature which
the earth bringeth forth, but the moving creature having
life, and the fowls that fly above the earth. For Thy sacra-
ments, O God, by the ministry of Thy holy ones, have made
their way amid the billows of the temptations of the world,
to instruct the Gentiles in Thy Name, in Thy Baptism. And
amongst these things, many great works of wonder have
been wrought, likeas great whales 5 and the voices of Thy
messengers flying above the earth, near to the firmament of
Thy Book 5 that being set over them as an authority, under
which they were to fly whithersoever they were to go. For
"there is no speech, nor language, where their voice is not
heard j " seeing their sound "hath gone through all the earth,
and their words to the end of the world," because Thou, O
Lord, hast multiplied these things by blessing.
27. Whether do I lie, or do I mingle and confound, and
not distinguish between the clear knowledge of these things
that are in the firmament of heaven, and the corporeal works
in the undulating sea and under the firmament of heaven?
For of those things whereof the knowledge is solid and de-
fined, without increase by generation, as it were lights of
wisdom and knowledge, yet of these self-same things the
material operations are many and varied ; and one thing in
growing from another is multiplied by Thy blessing, O God,
who hast refreshed the fastidiousness of mortal senses; so
CHAP. XXI.] BAPTISM 361
that in the knowledge of our mind, one thing may, through
the motions of the body, be in many ways set out and ex-
pressed. These sacraments have the waters brought forth 5
but in Thy Word. The wants of the people estranged from
the eternity of Thy truth have produced them, but in Thy
Gospel 5 because the waters themselves have cast them forth,
the bitter weakness of which was the cause of these things
being sent forth in Thy Word.
28. Now all things are fair that Thou hast made, but
behold, Thou art inexpressibly fairer who hast made all
things ; from whom had not Adam fallen, the saltness of
the sea would never have flowed from him, the human
race so profoundly curious, and boisterously swelling, and
restlessly moving 5 and thus there would be no need that
Thy dispensers should work in many waters, in a corporeal
and sensible manner, mysterious doings and sayings. For
so these creeping and flying creatures now present themselves
to my mind, whereby men, instructed, initiated, and sub-
jected by corporeal sacraments, should not further profit,
unless their soul had a higher spiritual life, and unless, after
the word of admission, it looked forwards to perfection.
CHAP. XXI. Concerning the living soul y birds and fishes (ver.
24), the sacrament of the Eucharist being regarded.
29. And hereby, in Thy Word, not the depth of the sea,
but the earth parted from the bitterness of the waters,
bringeth forth not the creeping and flying creature that hath
life, but the living soul itself. For now hath it no longer
need of baptism, as the heathen have, and as itself had when
it was covered with the waters, for no other entrance is
there into the kingdom of heaven, since Thou hast appointed
that- this should be the entrance, nor does it seek great
362 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK. XIII.
works of miracles by which to cause faith j for it is not such
that, unless it shall have seen signs and wonders, it will not
believe, when now the faithful earth is separated from the
waters of the sea, rendered bitter by infidelity 5 and "tongues
are for a sign, not to those that believe, but to those that
believe not." Nor then doth the earth, which Thou hast
founded above the waters, stand in need of that flying kind
which at Thy word the waters brought forth. Send Thy
word forth into it by Thy messengers. For we relate their
works, but it is Thou who workest in them, that in it they
may work out a living soul. The earth bringeth it forth,
because the earth is the cause that they work these things in
the soulj as the sea has been the cause that they wrought
upon the moving creatures that have life, and the fowls that
fly under the firmament of heaven, of which the earth hath
now no need j although it feeds on the fish which was taken
out of the deep, upon that table which Thou hast prepared in
the presence of those that believe. For therefore He was
raised from the deep, that He might feed the dry land $ and
the fowl, though bred in the sea, is yet multiplied upon the
earth. For of the first preachings of the Evangelists, the
infidelity of men was the prominent cause 5 but the faithful
also are exhorted, and are manifoldly blessed by them day
by day. But the living soul takes its origin from the earth,
for it is not profitable, unless to those already among the
faithful, to restrain themselves from the love of this world,
that so their soul may live unto Thee, which was dead while
living in pleasures, in death-bearing pleasures, O Lord,
for Thou art the vital delight of the pure heart.
30. Now, therefore, let Thy ministers work upon the
earth, not as in the waters of infidelity, by announcing and
speaking by miracles, and sacraments, and mystic words; in
CHAP. XXI.] THE TRUE LIFE 363
which ignorance, the mother of admiration, may be intent
upon them, in fear of those hidden signs. For such is the
entrance unto the faith for the sons of Adam forgetful of
Thee, while they hide themselves from Thy face, and be-
come a darksome deep. But let Thy ministers work even
as on the dry land, separated from the whirlpools of the
great deep ; let them be an example unto the faithful, by
living before them, and by stimulating them to imitation.
For thus do men hear not with an intent to hear merely, but
to act also. Seek the Lord, and your soul shall live, that the
earth may bring forth the living soul. "Be not conformed
to this world." Restrain yourselves from it 3 the soul lives
by avoiding those things which it dies by affecting. Restrain
yourselves from the unbridled wildness of pride, from the
indolent voluptuousness of luxury, and from the false name
of knowledge; so that wild beasts may be tamed, the cattle
subdued, and serpents harmless. For these are the motions
of the mind in allegory ; that is to say, the haughtiness of
pride, the delight of lust, and the poison of curiosity are the
motions of the dead soul 5 for the soul dies not so as to lose
all motion, because it dies by forsaking the fountain of life,
and so is received by this transitory world, and is conformed
unto it.
31. But Thy Word, O God, is the fountain of eternal
life, and passeth not away; therefore this departure is kept
in check by Thy word when it is said unto us, "Be not con-
formed unto this world," so that the earth may bring forth
a living soul in the fountain of life, & soul restrained in
Thy Word, by Thy Evangelists, by imitating the followers
of Thy Christ. For this is after his kind; because a man is
stimulated to emulation by his friend. "Be ye," saith he,
a as I am, for I am as you are." Thus in the living soul
364 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XII L
shall there be good beasts, in gentleness of action. For Thou
hast commanded, saying, Go on with thy business in meek-
ness, and thou shalt be beloved by all men; and good cattle,
which neither if they eat, shall they over-abound, nor if they
dd not eat, have they any want; and good serpents, not
destructive to do hurt, but "wise" to take heed; and explor-
ing only so much of this temporal nature as is sufficient that
eternity may be "clearly seen, being understood by the things
that are." For these animals are subservient to reason, when,
being kept in check from a deadly advance, they live, and
are good.
CHAP. xxil. He explains the Divine Image (ver. 26) of the
renewal of the mind.
32. For behold, O Lord our God, our Creator, when our
affections have been restrained from the love of the world,
by which we died by living ill, and began to be a "living
soul" by living well; and Thy word which Thou spakest by
Thy apostle is made good in us, "Be not conformed to this
world;" next also follows that which Thou presently sub-
joinedst, saying, "But be ye transformed by the renewing of
your mind," not now after your kind, as if following your
neighbour who went before you, nor as if living after the
example of a better man (for Thou hast not said, "Let man
be made after his kind," but, "Let us make man in our
image, after our likeness"), that we may prove what Thy
will is. For to this purpose said that dispenser of Thine,
begetting children by the gospel, that he might not always
have them "babes," whom he would feed on milk, and
cherish as a nurse; "be ye transformed," saith He, "by the
renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good,
and acceptable, and perfect will of God." Therefore Thou
CHAP. XXIII.] THE THINGS OF FAITH 365
sayest not, "Let man be made," but, "Let us make man."
Nor sayest Thou, "after his kind," but, after "our image"
and "likeness." Because, being renewed in his mind, and
beholding and apprehending Thy truth, man needeth not
man as his director that he may imitate his kind; but by Thy
direction proveth what is that good, and acceptable, and per-
fect will of Thine. And Thou teach est him, now made
capable, to perceive the Trinity of the Unity, and the Unity
of the Trinity. And therefore this being said in the plural,
"Let us make man," it is yet subjoined in the singular, "and
God made man;" and this being said in the plural, "after our
likeness," is subjoined in the singular, "after the image of
God." Thus is man renewed in the knowledge of God, after
the image of Him that created him; and being made spir-
itual, he judgeth all things, all things that are to be
judged, "yet he himself is judged of no man."
i
CHAP. XXIII. That to have 'power over all things (ver* 26) h to
judge spiritually of all.
33. But that he judgeth all things answers to his having
dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowls of the
air, and over all cattle and wild beasts, and over all the earth,
and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.
For this he doth by the discernment of his mind, whereby he
perceiveth the things "of the Spirit of God;" whereas, other-
wise, man being placed in honour, had no understanding, and
is compared unto the brute beasts, and is become like unto
them. In Thy Church, therefore, O our God, according to
Thy grace which Thou hast accorded unto it, since we are
Thy workmanship created in good works, there are not only
those who are spiritually set over, but those also who are
spiritually subjected to those placed over them; for in this
366 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK. XIII.
manner hast Thou made man, male and female, in Thy grace
spiritual, where, according to the sex of body, there is not
male and female, because neither Jew nor Greek, nor bond
nor free. Spiritual persons, therefore, whether those that
are set over, or those who obey, judge spiritually ; not of that
spiritual knowledge which shines in the firmament, for they
ought not to judge as to an authority so sublime, nor doth it
behove them to judge of Thy Book itself, although there
be something that is not clear therein ; because we submit our
understanding unto it, and esteem as certain that even that
which is shut up from our sight is rightly and truly spoken.
For thus man, although now spiritual and renewed in the
knowledge of God after His image that created him, ought
yet to be the "doer of the law, not the judge." Neither doth
he judge of that distinction of spiritual and carnal men, who
are known to Thine eyes, O our God, and have not as yet
made themselves manifest unto us by works, that by their
fruits we may know them; but Thou, O Lord, dost already
know them, and Thou hast divided and hast called them in
secret, before the firmament was made. Nor doth that man,
though spiritual, judge the restless people of this world j
for what hath he to do to judge them that are without, know-
ing not which of them may afterwards come into the sweet-
ness of Thy grace, and which continue in the perpetual bit-
terness of impiety?
34. Man, therefore, whom Thou hast made after Thine
own image, received not dominion over the lights of heaven,
nor over the hidden heaven itself, nor over the day and the
night, which Thou didst call before the foundation of the
heaven, nor over the gathering together of the waters, which
is the sea 5 but he received dominion over the fishes of the
sea, and the fowls of the air, and over all cattle, and over
CHAP. XXIV.] SPIRITUAL JUDGMENT 367
all the earth, and over all creeping things which creep upon
the earth. For He judgeth and appro veth what He findeth
right, but disapproveth what He findeth amiss, whether in
the celebration of those sacraments by which are initiated
those whom Thy mercy searches out in many waters ; or in
that in which the Fish Itself is exhibited, which, being raised
from the deep, the devout earth feedeth upon 5 or in the
signs and expressions of words, subject to the authority of
Thy Book, such signs as burst forth and sound from the
mouth, as it were flying under the firmament, by interpreting,
expounding, discoursing, disputing, blessing, calling upon
Thee, so that the people may answer, Amen. The vocal pro-
nunciation of all which words is caused by the deep of this
world, and the blindness of the flesh, by which thoughts can-
not be seen, so that it is necessary to speak aloud in the ears;
thus, although flying fowls be multiplied upon the earth, yet
they derive their beginning from the waters. The spiritual
man judgeth also by approving what is right and reproving
what he finds amiss in the works and morals of the faithful,
in their alms, as if in "the earth bringing forth fruit ;" and
he judgeth of the "living soul," rendered living by softened
affections, in chastity, in fastings, in pious thoughts; and of
those things which are perceived through the senses of the
body. For it is now said, that he should judge concerning
those things in which he has also the power of correction*
CHAP. XXIV. Why God has blessed men, fishes, flying creatures^
and not herbs and the other animals (ver. 28).
35. But what is this, and what kind of mystery is it?
Behold, Thou blessest men, O Lord, that they may "be fruit-
ful and multiply, and replenish the earth;" in this dost Thou
not make a sign unto us that we may understand something?
368 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XIII,
Why hast Thou not also blessed the light, which Thou
calledst day, nor the firmament of heaven, nor the lights,
nor the stars, nor the earth, nor the sea? I might say, O our
God, that Thou, who hast created us after Thine Image, I
might say, that Thou hast willed to bestow this gift of bless-
ing especially upon man, hadst Thou not in like manner
blessed the fishes and the whales, that they should be fruitful
and multiply, and replenish the waters of the sea, and that
the fowls should be multiplied upon the earth. Likewise
might I say, that this blessing belonged properly unto such
creatures as are propagated from their own kind, if I had
found it in the shrubs, and the fruit trees, and beasts of the
earth. But now is it not said either unto the herbs, or trees,
or beasts, or serpents, "Be fruitful and multiply 5" since all
these also, as well as fishes, and fowls, and men, do by propa-
gation increase and preserve their kind.
36. What, then, shall I say, O Thou Truth, my Light,
"that it was idly and vainly said?" Not so, O Father of
piety; far be it from a minister of Thy word to say this. But
if I understand not what Thou meanest by that phrase, let
my betters that is, those more intelligent than I use it bet-
ter, in proportion as Thou, O my God, hast given to each to
understand. But let my confession be also pleasing before
Thine eyes, in which I confess to Thee that I believe, O
Lord, that Thou hast not thus spoken in vain; nor will I be
silent as to what this lesson suggests to me. For it is true,
nor do I see what should prevent me from thus understand-
ing the figurative sayings of Thy books. For I know a
thing may be manifoldly signified by bodily expression which
is understood in one manner by the mind; and that that may
be manifoldly understood in the mind which is in one manner
signified by bodily expression. Behold, the single love o
CHAP. XXIV.] MANIFOLD MEANINGS OF SCRIPTURE 369
God and of our neighbour, by what manifold sacraments and
innumerable languages, and in each several language in how
innumerable modes of speaking, it is bodily expressed. Thus
do the young of the waters increase and multiply. Observe
again, whosoever thou art who readestj behold what Scrip-
ture delivers, and the voice pronounces in one only way, "In
the beginning God created heaven and earth;" is it not mani-
foldly understood, not by any deceit of error, but by divers
kinds of true senses? Thus are the offspring of men "fruit-
ful" and do "multiply."
37. If, therefore, we conceive of the natures of things,
not allegorically, but properly, then does the phrase, "be
fruitful and multiply," correspond to all things which are
begotten of seed. But if we treat those words as taken fig-
uratively (the which I rather suppose the Scripture intended,
which doth not, verily, superfluously attribute this benedic-
tion to the offspring of marine animals and man only), then
do we find that "multitude" belongs also to creatures both
spiritual and corporeal, as in heaven and in earth; and to
souls both righteous and unrighteous, as in light and dark-
ness; and to holy authors, through whom the law has been
furnished unto us, as in the firmament which has been firmly
placed betwixt waters and waters; and to the society of people
yet endued with bitterness, as in the sea; and to the desire of
holy souls, as in the dry land; and to works of mercy per-
taining to this present life, as in the seed-bearing herbs and
fruit-bearing trees; and to spiritual gifts shining forth for
edification, as in the lights of heaven; and to affections
formed unto temperance, as in the living soul. In all these
cases we meet with multitudes, abundance, and increase; but
what shall thus "be fruitful and multiply," that one thing
may be expressed in many ways, and one expression under-
37O CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK. XIII.
stood in many ways, we discover not, unless in signs corpo-
really expressed, and in things mentally conceived. We un-
derstand the signs corporeally pronounced as the genera-
tions of the waters, necessarily occasioned by carnal depth;
but things mentally conceived we understand as human
generations, on account of the fruitfulness of reason. And
therefore do we believe that to each kind of these it
has been said by Thee, O Lord, "Be fruitful and multiply."
For in this blessing I acknowledge that a power and faculty
has been granted unto us, by Thee, both to express in many
ways what we understand but in one, and to understand in
many ways what we read as obscurely delivered but in one.
Thus are the waters of the sea replenished, which are not
moved but by various significations ; thus even with the hu-
man offspring is the earth also replenished, the dryness
whereof appeareth in its desire, and reason ruleth over it.
CHAP. XXV. He explains the fruits of the earth (ver. 29) of
works of mercy*
38. I would also say, O Lord my God, what the follow-
ing Scripture reminds me of; yea, I will say it without fear.
For I will speak the truth, Thou inspiring me as to what
Thou wiliest that I should say out of these words. For by
none other than Thy inspiration do I believe that I can speak
the truth, since Thou art the Truth, but every man a liar.
And therefore he that "speaketh a lie, he speaketh of his
own;" therefore that I may speak the truth, I will speak of
Thine. Behold, Thou hast given unto us for food "every
herb bearing seed," which is upon the face of all the earth,
"and every tree in the which is the fruit of a tree yielding
seed." Nor to us only, but to all the fowls of the air, and
CHAP. XXVI.] THE CONFESSING OF BENEFITS 371
to the beasts of the earth, and to all creeping things; but
unto the fishes, and great whales, Thou hast not given these
things. Now we were saying, that by these fruits of the
earth works of mercy were signified and figured in an alle-
gory, the which are provided for the necessities of this life
out of the fruitful earth. Such an earth was the godly Ones-
iphorus, unto whose house Thou didst give mercy, because
he frequently refreshed Thy Paul, and was not ashamed
of his chain. This did also the brethren, and such fruit did
they bear, who out of Macedonia supplied what was wanting
unto him. But how doth he grieve for certain trees, which
did not afford him the fruit due unto him, when he saith,
"At my first answer no man stood with me, but all men
forsook me: I pray God that it may not be laid to their
charge." For these fruits are due to those who minister spir-
itual doctrine, through their understanding of the divine
mysteries 5 and they are due to them as men. They are due
to them, too, as to the living soul, supplying itself as an ex-
ample in all continency; and due unto them likewise as flying
creatures, for their blessings which are multiplied upon the
earth, since their sound went out into all lands.
CHAP. xxvi. In the confessing of benefit?, commutation is made
not as to the "gift? but as to the "fruit? that is, the good
and right will of the giver*
39. But they who are delighted with them are fed by
those fruits; nor are they delighted with them "whose god
is their belly." For neither in those that yield them are the
things given the fruit, but in what spirit they give them.
Therefore he who serves God and not his own belly, I plainly
see why he may rejoice; I see it, and I rejoice with him ex-
CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XIII.
ceedingly. For he hath received from the Philippians those
things which they had sent from Epaphroditus; but yet I see
why he rejoiced. For whereat he rejoices, upon that he
feeds 5 for speaking in truth, "I rejoiced/' saith he, a in the
Lord greatly, that now at the last your care of me hath flour-
ished again, wherein ye were also careful," but it had become
wearisome unto you. These Philippians, then, by protracted
wearisomeness, had become enfeebled, and as it were dried
up, as to bringing forth this fruit of a good work 5 and he
rejoiceth for them, because they flourished again, not for
himself, because they ministered to his wants. Therefore,
adds he, "not that I speak in respect of want, for I have
learned in whatsoever state I am therewith to be content. I
know both how to be abased, and I know how to abound ;
everywhere and in all things I am instructed both to be full
and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. I can
do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me."
40. Whereat, then, dost thou rejoice in all things, O great
Paul? Whereat dost thou rejoice? Whereon dost thou
feed, O man, renewed in the knowledge of God, after the
image of Him that created thee, thou living soul of so great
continency, and thou tongue like flying fowls, speaking mys-
teries, for to such creatures is this food due, what is that
which feeds thee? Joy. Let us hear what follows. "Not-
withstanding," saith he, "ye have well done that ye did com-
municate with my affliction." Hereat doth he rejoice, here-
on doth he feed; because they have well done, not because
his strait was relieved, who saith unto thee, "Thou hast en-
larged me when I was in distress 5" because he knew both "to
abound and to suffer need," in Thee Who strengthenest him.
For, saith he, "ye Philippians know also that in the beginning
of the gospel, when I departed from Macedonia, no Church
CHAP. XXVI.] THE "GIFT" AND THE "FRUIT" 373
communicated with me as concerning giving and receiving,
but ye only. For even in Thessalonica ye sent once and again
unto my necessity." Unto these good works he now rejoiceth
that they have returned 5 and* is made glad that they flour-
ished again, as when a fruitful field recovers its greenness.
4.1. Was it on account of his own necessities that he said
"Ye have sent unto my necessity"? Rejoiceth he for that?
Verily not for that. But whence know we this? Because
he himself continues, "Not because I desire a gift, but I de-
sire fruit." From Thee, O my God, have I learned to dis-
tinguish between a "gift" and "fruit." A gift is the thing
itself which he gives who bestows these necessaries, as money,
food, drink, clothing, shelter, aid; but the fruit is the good
and right will of the giver. For the good Master saith not
only, "He that receiveth a prophet," but addeth, "in the
name of a prophet." Nor saith He only, "He that receiveth
a righteous man," but addeth, "in the name of a righteous
man." So, verily, the former shall receive the reward of a
prophet, the latter that of a righteous man. Nor saith He
only, "Whosoever shall give to drink unto one of these little
ones a cup of cold water," but addeth, "in the name of a dis-
ciple 5" and so concludeth, "Verily I say unto you, he shall
in no wise lose his reward." The gift is to receive a prophet,
to receive a righteous man, to hand a cup of cold water to a
disciple; but the fruit is to do this in the name of a prophet,
in the name of a righteous man, in the name of a disciple.
With fruit was Elijah fed by the widow, who knew that she
fed a man of God, and on this account fed him; but by the
raven was he fed with a gift. Nor was the inner man of
Elijah fed, but the outer only, which might also from want
xpf such food have perished.
374 - CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XIII.
CHAP. xxvn. Many are ignorant as to this y and ask for miracles,
which are signified under the names of "fishes" and "whales?*
42. Therefore will I speak before Thee, O Lord, what
is true, when ignorant men and infidels (for the initiating
and gaining of whom the sacraments of initiation and great
works of miracles are necessary, which we believe to be signi-
fied under the name of "fishes" and "whales") undertake
that Thy servants should be bodily refreshed, or should be
otherwise succoured for this present life, although they may
be ignorant wherefore this is to be done, and to what end;
neither do the former feed the latter, nor the latter the for-
mer; for neither do the one perform these things through
a holy and right intent, nor do the other rejoice in the gifts
of those who behold not as yet the fruit. For on that is the
mind fed wherein it is gladdened. And, therefore, fishes
and whales are not fed on such food as the earth bringeth not
forth until it had been separated and divided from the bit-
terness of the waters of the sea,
CHAP, xxvin. Re proceeds to the last verse, "All things are very
df that is, the work being altogether good.
43. And Thou, O God, sawest everything that Thou
hadst made, and behold it was very good. So we also see the
same, and behold all are very good. In each particular kind
of Thy works, when Thou hadst said, "Let them be made,"
and they were made, Thou sawest that it was good. Seven
times have I counted it written that Thou sawest that that
which Thou madest was "good 5" and this is the eighth, that
Thou sawest all things that Thou hadst made, and behold
they are not only good, but also "very good," as being now
CHAP. XXIX.] TIME HAS NO RELATION TO GOD 375
taken together. For individually they were only good, but
all taken together they were both good and very good. All
beautiful bodies also express this; for a body which consists
of members, all of which are beautiful, is by far more beau-
tiful than the several members individually are by whose
well-ordered union the whole is completed, though these
members also be severally beautiful.
CHAP. xxix. Although It Is said, eight times that "God saw that
it was good" yet time has no relation to God and His Word.
44. And I looked attentively to find whether seven or
eight times Thou sawest that Thy works were good, when
they were pleasing unto Thee; but in Thy seeing I found no
times, by which I might understand that Thou sawest so
often what Thou madest. And I said, "O Lord, is not this
Thy Scripture true, since Thou art true, and being Truth
hast set it forth? Why, then, dost Thou say unto me that
in Thy seeing there are no times, while this Thy Scripture
telleth me that what Thou madest each day, Thou sawest to
be good; and when I counted them I found how often?"
Unto these things Thou repliest unto me, for Thou art my
God, and with strong voice tellest unto Thy servant in his
inner ear, bursting through my deafness, and crying, "O
man, that which My Scripture saith, I say; and yet doth that
speak in time; but time has no reference to My Word, be-
cause My Word existeth in equal eternity with Myself.
Thus those things which ye see through My Spirit, I see,
just as those things which ye speak through My Spirit, I
speak. And so when ye see those things in time, I see them
not in time; as when ye speak them in time, I speak them not
in time."
CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XIII.
CHAP. xxx. He refutes the opinions of the Manichczans and the
Gnostics concerning the origin of the world.
45. And I heard , O Lord my God, and drank up a drop of
sweetness from Thy truth, and understood that there are
certain men to whom Thy works are displeasing, who say
that many of them Thou madest being compelled by neces-
sity 5 such as the fabric of the heavens and the courses of
the stars, and that Thou madest them not of what was Thine,
but, that they were elsewhere and from other sources cre-
ated ; that Thou mightest bring together and compact and
interweave, when from Thy conquered enemies Thou raisedst
up the walls of the universe, that they, bound down by this
structure, might not be able a second time to rebel against
Thee. But, as to other things, they say Thou neither madest
them nor compactedst them, such as all flesh and all very
minute creatures, and whatsoever holdeth the earth by its
roots; but that a mind hostile unto Thee, and another nature
not created by Thee, and in everywise contrary unto Thee,
did, in these lower places of the world, beget and frame
these things. Infatuated are they who speak thus since they
see not Thy works through Thy Spirit, nor recognize Thee in
them.
CHAP. xxxi. We do not see "that It was good," but through the
Spirit of God y which is in us.
46. But as for those who through Thy Spirit see these
things, Thou seest in them. When, therefore, they see that
these things are good, Thou seest that they are good; and
whatsoever things for Thy sake are pleasing, Thou art
pleased in them; and those things which through Thy Spirit
CHAP. XXXI.] ALL OUR GOOD IS FROM GOD 377
are pleasing unto us, are pleasing unto Thee in us. "For
what man knoweth the things of a man, save the spirit of a
man which is in him? Even so the things of God knoweth
no man, but the Spirit of God. Now we," saith he, "have
received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit which is of
God, that we might know the things that are freely given to
us of God." And I am reminded to say, "Truly, c the things
of God knoweth no man, but the Spirit of God;' how, then,
do we also know c what things are given us by God?' " It is
answered unto me, "Because the things which we know by
His Spirit, even these 'knoweth no man, but the Spirit of
God.' For, as it is rightly said unto those who were to speak
by the Spirit of God, <It is not ye that speak,' so is it rightly
said to them who know by the Spirit of God, c lt is not ye that
know.' None the less, then, is it rightly said to those that
see by the Spirit of God, <It is not ye that see 5' so whatever
they see by the Spirit of God that it is good, it is not they, but
God who c sees that it is good.' " It is one thing, then, for a
man to suppose that to be bad which is good, as the fore-
named do 5 another, that what is good a man should see to be
good (as Thy creatures are pleasing unto many, because they
are good, whom, however, Thou pleasest not in them when
they wish to enjoy them rather than enjoy Thee) 5 and an-
other, that when a man sees a thing to be good, God should in
him see that it is good, that in truth He may be loved in that
which He made, who cannot be loved unless by the Holy
Ghost, which He hath given. "Because the love of God is
shed abroad in our hearts by the Holy Ghost which is given
unto us 5" by whom we see that whatsoever in any degree is,
is good. Because it is from Him who Is not in any degree,
but He Is that He Is.
378 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XIII.
CHAP. xxxn. Of the particular works of GocL y more especially of
man.
47. Thanks to Thee, O Lord. We behold the heaven
and the earth, whether the corporeal part, superior and in-
ferior, or the spiritual and corporeal creature 5 and in the em-
bellishment of these parts, whereof the universal mass of the
world or the universal creation consisteth, we see light made,
and divided from the darkness. We see the firmament of
heaven, whether the primary body of the world between the
spiritual upper waters and the corporeal lower waters, or
because this also is called heaven this expanse of air,
through which wander the fowls of heaven, between the
waters which are in vapours borne above them, and which in
clear nights drop down in dew, and those which being heavy
flow along the earth. We behold the waters gathered to-
gether through the plains of the sea 3 and the dry land both
void and formed, so as to be visible and compact, and the
matter of herbs and trees. We behold the lights shining
from above, the sun to serve the day, the moon and the
stars to cheer the night 3 and that by all these, times should
be marked and noted. We behold on every side a humid
element, fruitful with fishes, beasts, and birds 3 because the
density of the air, which bears up the flights of birds, is in-
creased by the exhalation of the waters. We behold the face
of the earth furnished with terrestrial creatures, and man,
t created after Thy image and likeness, in that very image and
likeness of Thee (that is, the power of reason and under-
standing) on account of which he was set over all irrational
creatures. And as in his soul there is one power which rules
by directing, another made subject that it might obey, so also
for the man was corporeally made a woman, who, in the
CHAP. XXXIII.] THE CREATION 379
mind of her rational understanding should also have a like
nature, in the sex, however, o her body should be in like
manner subject to the sex of her husband, as the appetite of
action is subjected by reason of the mind, to conceive the skill
of acting rightly. These things we behold, and they are sev-
erally good, and all very good.
CHAP, xxxni. The world was created by God out of nothing.
48. Let Thy works praise Thee, that we may love Theej
and let us love Thee, that Thy works may praise Thee, the
which have beginning and end from time, rising and set-
ting, growth and decay, form and privation. They have
therefore their successions of morning and evening, partly
hidden, partly apparent 5 for they were made from nothing
by Thee, not of Thee, nor of any matter not Thine, or which
was created before, but of concreated matter (that is, matter
at the same time created by Thee), because without any in-
terval of time Thou didst form its formlessness. For since
the matter of heaven and earth is one thing, and the form
of heaven and earth another, Thou hast made the matter
indeed of almost nothing, but the form of the world Thou
hast formed of formless matter 5 both, however, at the same
time, so that the form should follow the matter with no in-
terval of delay.
CHAP, xxxiv. He briefly repeats the allegorical interpretation of
Genesis (chaf. i.) y and confesses that we see it by the Divine Spirit.
49. We have also examined what Thou willedst to be
shadowed forth, whether by the creation, or the description
of things in such an order. And we have seen that things
severally are good, and all things very good, in Thy Word,
in Thine Only-Begotten, both heaven and earth, the Head
38O CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XIII.
and the body of the Church, in Thy predestination before all
times, without morning and evening. But when Thou didst
begin to execute in time the things predestinated, that Thou
mightest make manifest things hidden, and adjust our dis-
orders (for our sins were over us, and we had sunk into pro-
found darkness away from Thee, and Thy good Spirit was
borne over us to help us in due season), Thou didst both jus-
tify the ungodly, and didst divide them from the wicked ;
and madest firm the authority of Thy Book between those
above, who would be docile unto Thee, and those under, who
would be subject unto them; and Thou didst collect the so-
ciety of unbelievers into one conspiracy, in order that the zeal
of the faithful might appear, and that they might bring forth
works of mercy unto Thee, even distributing unto the poor
earthly riches, to obtain heavenly. And after this didst Thou
kindle certain lights in the firmament, Thy holy ones, having
the word of life, and shining with an eminent authority pre-
ferred by spiritual gifts j and then again, for the instruction
of the unbelieving Gentiles, didst Thou out of corporeal mat-
ter produce the sacraments and visible miracles, and sounds
of words according to the firmament of Thy Book, by which
the faithful should be blessed. Next didst Thou form the
living soul of the faithful, through affections ordered by the
vigour of continency; and afterwards, the mind subjected to
Thee alone, and needing to imitate no human authority,
Thou didst renew after Thine image and likeness $ and didst
subject its rational action to the excellency of the understand-
ing, as the woman to the man 5 and to all Thy ministries,
necessary for the perfecting of the faithful in this life, Thou
didst will that, for their temporal uses, good things, fruitful
in the future time, should be given by the same faithful.
We behold all these things, and they are very good, because,
CHAP. XXXV.] REST IN GOD 38 1
Thou dost see them in us, Thou who hast given unto us
Thy Spirit, whereby we might see them, and in them love
Thee.
CHAP. xxxv. He 'prays God for that feace of rest which hath no
evening*
50. O Lord God, grant Thy peace unto us, for Thou
hast supplied us with all things, the peace of rest, the peace
of the Sabbath, which hath no evening. For all this most
beautiful order of things, "very good" (all their courses be-
ing finished), is to pass away, for in them there was morning
and evening.
CHAP, xxxvi. The seventh day, without evening and setting, the
image of eternal life and rest in God.
51. But the seventh day is without any evening, nor hath
it any setting, because Thou hast sanctified it to an everlasting
continuance 5 that that which Thou didst after Thy works,
which were very good, resting on the seventh day, although
in unbroken rest Thou madest them, that the voice of Thy
Book may speak beforehand unto us, that we also after our
works (therefore very good, because Thou hast given them
unto us) may repose in Thee also in the Sabbath of eternal
life.
CHAP, xxxvil. Of rest in God, who ever worketh, and yet is ever
at rest.
52. For even then shalt Thou so rest in us, as now Thou
dost work in us; and thus shall that be Thy rest through us,
as these are Thy works through us. But Thou, O Lord,
ever workest, and art ever at rest. Nor seest Thou in time,
nor movest Thou in time, nor restest Thou in time 5 and yet
382 CONFESSIONS OF ST. AUGUSTINE [BOOK XIII.
Thou makest the scenes o time, and the times themselves,
and the rest which results from time.
CHAP, xxxvni. Of the difference between the knowledge of God
and of men y and of the repose which is to be sought from God only.
53. We therefore see those things which Thou madest,
because they are; but they are because Thou seest them.
And we see without that they are, and within that they are
good, but Thou didst see them there, when made, where
Thou didst see them to be made. And we were at another
time moved to do well, after our hearts had conceived of Thy
Spiritj but in the former time, forsaking Thee, we were
moved to do evilj but Thou, the One, the Good God, hast
never ceased to do good. And we also have certain good
works, of Thy gift, but not eternal ; after these we hope to
rest in Thy great hallowing. But Thou, being the Good,
needing no good, art ever at rest, because Thou Thyself art
Thy rest. And what man will teach man to understand this?
Or what angel, an angel? Or what angel, a man? Let it
be asked of Thee, sought in Thee, knocked for at Thee; so,
even so shall it be received, so shall it be found, so shall it
be opened. Amen.
NOTES
1. Ex, xvi. 15. This is one of the alternative translations put against "it is
manna" in the margin of the authorized version. It is the literal significance of
the Hebrew, and is so translated in most of the old English versions. Augus-
tine indicates thereby the attitude of faith. Many things we are called on to
believe (to use the illustration of Locke) which are above reason, but none
that are contrary to reason. We are but as children in relation to God, and
may therefore only expect to know "parts of His ways." Even in the diffi-
culties of Scripture he sees the goodness of God. "God," he says, "has in
Scripture clothed His mysteries with clouds, that man's love of truth might be
inflamed by the difficulty of finding them out. For if they were only such as
were readily understood, truth would not be eagerly sought, nor would it give
pleasure when found." De Ver. Relig. c. 17.
2. Baptism was in those days frequently (and for similar reasons to the
above) postponed till the hour of death approached. The doctors of the
Church endeavoured to discourage this, and persons baptized on a sick-bed
("clinically") were, if they recovered, looked on with suspicion. The Emperor
Constantine was not baptized till the close of his life, and he is censured by Dr.
Newman (Arians, iii. sec. i) for presuming to speak of questions which divided
the Arians and the Orthodox as "unimportant," while he himself was both un-
baptized and uninstructed. On the postponing of baptism with a view to un-
restrained enjoyment of the world, and on the severity of the early Church
towards sins committed after baptism, see Kaye's Tertullian, pp. 234-241.
3. Exaggerated statements have been made as to Augustine's deficiency in
the knowledge of Greek. In this place it is clear that he simply alludes to a
repugnance to learn a foreign language that has often been seen in boys since
his day. It would seem equally clear from Bk. vii. sec. 13 (see also De Trin.
iii. sec. i), that when he could get a translation of a Greek book, he preferred
it to one in the original language. Perhaps in this, again, he is not altogether
singular. It is difficult to decide the exact extent of his knowledge, but those
familiar with his writings can scarcely fail to be satisfied that he had a suffi-
cient acquaintance with the language to correct his Italic version by the Greek
Testament and the LXX., and that he was quite alive to the importance of
such knowledge in an interpreter of Scripture. See also Con. Faust, xi. 2-4;
and De Doctr. Christ, ii. 11-15.
4. There was something peculiarly enthralling to an ardent mind like Augus-
tine's in the Manichasan system. That system was kindred in many ways to
modern Rationalism. Reason was exalted at the expense of faith. Nothing
was received on mere authority, and the disciple's inner consciousness was the
touchstone of truth. The result of this is well pointed out by Augustine (Con.
383
384
NOTES
Faust xxxii. sec. 19): "Your design, clearly, is to deprive Scripture of all au-
thority, and to make every man's mind the judge what passage of Scripture he
is to approve of, and what to disapprove of. This is not to be subject to
Scripture in matters of faith, but to make Scripture subject to you. Instead
of making the high authority of Scripture the reason of approval, every man
makes his approval the reason for thinking a passage correct." Compare also
Con. Faust, xi. sec. 2, and xxxii. sec. 16.
5. The strange mixture of the pensive philosophy of Persia with Gnosticism
and Christianity, propounded by Manichseus, attempted to solve this question,
which was "the great object of heretical inquiry" (Hansel's Gnostics, lee. i.).
It was Augustine's desire for knowledge concerning it that united him to this
sect, and which also led him to forsake it, when he found therein nothing but
empty fables (De Lib. Arb. i. sec. 4.) Manichasus taught that evil and good
were primeval, and had independent existences. Augustine, on the other hand,
maintains that it was not possible for evil so to exist (De Civ. Dei, xi. sec. 22),
but, as he here states, evil is "a privation of good." The evil will has a causa
deficient, but not a causa effidens (ibid. xii. 6), as is exemplified in the fall of
the angels.
6. Here, as at the end of sec. 17, he alludes to the typical and allegorical
character of Old Testament histories. Though he does not with Origen go so
far as to disparage the letter of Scripture (see De Civ. Dei, xiii. 21), but up-
holds it, he constantly employs the allegorical principle. He (alluding to the
patriarchs) goes so far, indeed, as to say (Con. Faust, xxii. 24), that "not only
the speech but the life of these men was prophetic ; and the whole kingdom of
the Hebrews was like a great prophet;" and again: "We may discover a proph-
ecy of the coming of Christ and of the Church both in what they said and
what they did." This method of interpretation he first learned from Ambrose.
See note 13, on "the letter killeth," etc., for the danger attending it.
On the general subject, reference may be made to his in Ps. cxxxvi. 3 ; Serm. 2 ;
De Tentat. Abr. sec. 7; and De Civ. Dei, xvii.3.
7. According to this extraordinary system, it was the privilege of the "elect'*
to set free in eating such parts of the divine substance as were imprisoned in
the vegetable creation (Con. Faust, xxxi. 5). They did not marry or work in
the fields, and led an ascetic life, the "hearers" />r catechumens being privileged
to provide them with food. The "elect" passed immediately on dying into the
realm of light, while, as a reward for their service, the souls of the "hearers"
after death transmigrated into plants (from which they might be most readily
freed), or into the "elect," so as, in their turn, to pass away into the realm of
light. See Con. Faust, v. 10, xx. 23; and in Ps. cxl.
8. Augustine tells us (De Civ. Dei, xix. i) that Varro, in his lost book
De Philosophia, gives two hundred and eighty-eight different opinions as re-
gards the chief good, and shows us how readily they may be reduced in number.
Now, as then, philosophers ask the same questions. We have our hedonists,
whose "good" is their own pleasure and happiness; our materialists, who would
seek the common good of all; and our intuitionists, who aim at following the
dictates of conscience. When the pretensions of these various schools are
examined without prejudice, the conclusion is forced upon us that we must
NOTES 385
have recourse to Revelation for a reconcilement of the difficulties of the various
systems; and that the philosophers, to employ Davidson's happy illustration
(Prophecies, Introd.), forgetting that their faded taper has been insensibly
kindled by gospel light, are attempting now, as in Augustine's time (ibid. sec. 4).
"to fabricate for themselves a happiness in this life based upon a virtue as
deceitful as it is proud.'* Christianity gives the golden key to the attainment
of happiness, when it declares that "godliness is profitable for all things, having
the promise of the life which now is, and of that which is to come" (I Tim.
iv. 8). It was a saying of Bacon (Essay on Adversity), that while "prosperity
is the blessing of the Old Testament, adversity is the blessing of the New." He
would have been nearer the truth had he said that while temporal rewards
were the special promise of the Old Testament, spiritual rewards are the special
promise of the New. For though Christ's immediate followers had to suffer
"'adversity" in the planting of our faith, adversity cannot properly be said to
be the result of following Christ. It has yet to be shown that, on the whole,
the greatest amount of real happiness does not result, even in this life, from a
Christian life, for virtue is, even here, its own reward. The fulness of the
reward, however, will only be received in the life to come. Augustine's re-
mark, therefore, still holds good that "life eternal is the supreme good, and
death eternal the supreme evil, and that to obtain the one and escape the
other we must live rightly" (ibid. sec. 4) ; and again, that even in the midst
of the troubles of life, "as we are saved, so we are made happy, by hope. And
as we do not as yet possess a present, but look for a future salvation, so it is
with our happiness, ... we ought patiently to endure till we come to the
ineffable enjoyment of unmixed good." See Abbe Anselme, Sur le Sowuerain
Bien, vol. v. serm. i: and the last chapter of Professor Sidgwick's Methods of
Ethics, for the conclusions at which a mind at once lucid and dispassionate has
arrived on this question.
o. It may assist those unacquainted with Augustine's writings to understand
the last three sections, if we set before them a brief view of the Manichsean
speculations as to the good and evil principles, and the nature of the human
soul: (i) The Manichasans believed that there were two principles or sub-
stances, one good and the other evil, and that both were eternal and opposed
one to the other. The good principle they called God, and the evil, matter or
Hyle (Con. Faust, xxi. i, 2). Faustus, in his argument with Augustine, ad-
mits that they sometimes called the evil nature "God," but simply as a con-
ventional usage. Augustine says thereon (ibid. sec. 4) : "Faustus glibly defends
himself by saying, 'We speak not of two gods, but of God and Hyle;' but when
you ask for the meaning of Hyle, you find that it is in fact another god. If
the Manichaeans gave the name of Hyle, as the ancients did, to the unformed
matter which is susceptible of bodily forms, we should not accuse them of
making two gods. But it is pure folly and madness to give to matter the power
of forming bodies, or to deny that what has this power is God." Augustine
alludes in the above passage to the Platonic theory of matter, which, as the
late Dean Mansel has shown us (Gnostic Heresies, Basilides, etc.), resulted after
his time in Pantheism, and which was entirely opposed to the dualism of
Manichaeus. It is to this "power of forming bodies" claimed for matter, then,
that Augustine alludes in our text (sec. 24) as "not only a substance but real
life also." (2) The human soul the Manichaeans declared to be of >iie same
386
NOTES
nature as God, though not created by Him it having originated in the inter-
mingling of part of His being with the evil principle, in the conflict between
the kingdoms of light and darkness (in Ps. cxl. sec. 10). Augustine says to
Faustus: "You generally call your soul not a temple, but a part or member
of God" (Con. Faust, xx. 15) ; and thus, "identifying themselves with the
nature and substance of God" (ibid. xii. 13), they did not refer their sin to
themselves, but to the race of darkness, and so did not "prevail over their
sin." That is, they denied original sin, and asserted that it necessarily re-
sulted from the soul's contact with the body. To this Augustine steadily
replied, that as the soul was not of the nature of God, but created by Him
and endowed with free will, man was responsible for his transgressions. Again,
referring to the Confessions, we find Augustine speaking consistently with his
then belief, when he says that he had not then learned that the soul was not
a "chief and unchangeable good" (sec. 24), or that "it was not that nature
of truth" (sec. 25) ; and that when he transgressed "he accused flesh" rather
than himself; and, as a result of his Manichaean errors (sec. 26), "contended
that God's immutable substance erred of constraint, rather than admit that
his mutable substance had gone astray of free will, and erred as a punishment."
10. "The categories enumerated by Aristotle are rendered as adequately as
perhaps they can be in our language, substance, quantity, quality, relation,
place, time, situation, possession, action, suffering. The catalogue (which cer-
tainly is but a very crude one) has been by some writers enlarged, as it is
evident may easily be done by subdividing some of the heads; and by others
curtailed, as it is no less evident that all may ultimately be referred to the two
heads of substance and attribute^ or, in the language of some logicians, 'acci-
dent' " (Whately's Logic, iv, 2, sec. i, note).
11. Augustine frequently recurs to the idea, that in God's overruling Provi-
dence, the foulness and sin of man does not disturb the order and fairness of
the universe. He illustrates the idea by reference to music, painting, and ora-
tory. "For as the beauty of a picture is increased by well-managed shadows,
so, to the eye that has skill to discern it, the universe is beautified even by
sinners, though, considered by themselves, their deformity is a sad blemish"
(De Civ. Dei. xi. 23). So again, he says, God would never have created angels
or men whose future wickedness He foreknew, unless He could turn them to
the use of the good, "thus embellishing the course of the ages as it were an
exquisite poem set off with antitheses" (ibid. xi. 18) ; and further on, in the
same section, "as the oppositions of contraries lend beauty to language, so the
beauty of the course of this world is achieved by the opposition of contraries,
arranged, as it were, by an eloquence not of words, but of things." These
reflections affected Augustine's views as to the last things. They seemed to
him to render the idea entertained by Origen (De Princ. i. 6) and other
Fathers as to a general restoration unnecessary. See Hagenbach's Hist, of Doct*
etc. i. 383 (Clark).
12. "Amongst these philosophers," i.e. those who have founded their systems
on denial, "some are satisfied with denying certainty, admitting at the same
time probability, and these are the New Academics; the others, who are the
Pyrrhonists, have denied even this probability, and have maintained, that all
things are equally certain and uncertain" (Port. Roy. Log. iv. i). There are,
NOTES 387
according to the usual divisions, three Academies, the old, the middle, and the
new; and some subdivide the middle and the new each into two schools, making
five schools of thought in all. These begin with Plato, the founder (387 B.C.),
and continue to the fifth school, founded by Antiochus (83 B.C.) ,~ who, by com-
bining his teachings with that of Aristotle and Zeno, prepared the way for
Neo-Platonism and its development of the dogmatic side of Plato's teaching.
In the 'second Academic school, founded by Arcesilas, of whom Aristo, the
Stoic, parodying the line in the Iliad (vi 181), TlpdcrOe \&>p, 'oTrrfev 8s Spdxajy,
vtcrffTft 5e xtfiaipa, sa id sarcastically he was "Plato in front, Pyrrho behind, and
Diodorus in the middle," the "sceptical" tendency in Platonism began to
develope itself, which, under Carneades, was expanded into the doctrine of
the third Academic school. Arcesilas had been a pupil of Polemo when he
was head of the old Academy. Zeno also, dissatisfied with the cynical phi-
losophy of Crates, had learnt Platonic doctrine from Polemo, and was, as
Cicero tells us (De Fin. iv. 16), greatly influenced by his teaching. Zeno,
however, soon founded his own school of Stoical philosophy, which was vio-
lently opposed by Arcesilas (Cicero, Acad. Post. i. 12). Arcesilas, according
to Cicero (ibid.}, taught his pupils that we cannot know anything, not even
that we are unable to know. It is exceedingly probable, however, that he taught
esoterically the doctrines of Plato to those of his pupils he thought able to
receive them, keeping them back from the multitude because of the prevalence
of the new doctrine. This appears to have been Augustine's view when he
had arrived at a fuller knowledge of their doctrines than that he possessed at
the time referred to in his Confessions. In his treatises against the Academicians
iii. 17) he maintains the wisdom of Arcesilas in this matter. He says: "As the
multitude are prone to rush into false opinions, and, from being accustomed
to bodies, readily, but to their hurt, believe everything to be corporeal, this
most acute and learned man determined rather to unteach those who had
suffered from bad teaching, than to teach those whom he did not think teach-
able." Again, in the first of his Letters, alluding to these treatises, he says:
"It seems to me to be suitable enough to the times in which they flourished,
that whatever issued pure from the fountainhead of Platonic philosophy should
be rather conducted into dark and thorny thickets for the refreshment of a
very few men, than left to flow in open meadowland, where it would be im-
possible to keep it clear and pure from the inroads of the vulgar herd. I use
the word 'herd' advisedly, for what is more brutish than the opinion that the
soul is material?" and more to the same purpose. In his De Civ. Dei, xix. 18,
he contrasts the uncertainty ascribed to the doctrines of these teachers with
the certainty of the Christian faith.
13. 2 Cor. iii. 6. The spiritual or allegorical meaning here referred to is
one that Augustine constantly sought, as did many of the early Fathers, both
Greek and Latin. He only employs this method of interpretation, however,
in a qualified way never going to the lengths of Origen or Clement of Alex-
andria. He does not depreciate the letter of Scripture, though, as we have
shown above (note 6), he went as far as he well could in interpreting
the history spiritually. He does not seem, however, quite consistent in his
statements as to the relative prominence to be given to the literal and spiritual
meanings, as may be seen by a comparison of the latter portions of sees, i
and 3 of book xvii. of the City of God. His general idea may be gathered
388 NOTES
from the following passage in the 2ist sec. of book xiii.: "Some allegorize
all that concerns paradise itself, where the first men, the parents of the human
race, are, according to the truth of Holy Scripture, recorded to have been;
and they understand all its trees and fruit-bearing plants as virtues and habits
of life, as if they had no existence in the external world, but were only so
spoken of or related for the sake of spiritual meanings. As if there could not
be a real terrestrial paradise 1 As if there never existed these two women, Sarah
and Hagar, nor the two sons who were born to Abraham, the one of the
bond-woman, the other of the free, because the apostle says that in them the
two covenants were prefigured! or as if water never flowed from the rock
when Moses struck it, because therein Christ can be seen in a figure, as the
same apostle says: 'Now that rock was Christ' (i Cor. x. 4). . . . These and
similar allegorical interpretations may be suitably put upon paradise without
giving offence to any one, while yet we believe the strict truth of the history,
confirmed by its circumstantial narrative of facts." The allusion in the above
passage to Sarah and Hagar invites the remark, that in Galatians iv. 24, the
words in our version rendered, "which things are an allegory," should be,
"which things are such as may be allegorized." P'A-nj/d kcrw d\\tjjopovfjLeva.
See Jelf, 398, sec. 2.] It is important to note this, as the passage has been
quoted in support of the more extreme method of allegorizing, though it could
clearly go no further than to sanction allegorizing by way of spiritual medi-
tation upon Scripture, and not in the interpretation of it which first, as
Waterland thinks (Works, vol. v. p. 311), was the end contemplated by most
of the Fathers. Thoughtful students of Scripture will feel that we have no
right to make historical facts typical or allegorical, unless (as in the case of
the manna, the brazen serpent, Jacob's ladder, etc.) we have divine authority
for so doing; and few such will dissent from the opinion of Bishop Marsh
(Lecture vi.) that the type must not only resemble the antitype, but must
have been designed to resemble it, and further, that we must have the au-
thority of Scripture for the existence of such design. The text, "The letter
killeth, but the Spirit giveth life," as a perusal of the context will show, has
nothing whatever to do with either "literal" or "spiritual" meanings. Augus-
tine himself interprets it in one place (De Spir. et Lit. cc. 4, 5) as meaning the
killing letter of the law, as compared with the quickening power of the gospel.
"An opinion," to conclude with the thoughtful words of Alfred Morris on this
chapter (Words for the Heart and Life, p. 203), "once common must therefore
be' rejected. Some still talk of 'letter* and 'spirit' in a way which has no sanc-
tion here. The 'letter' with them is the literal meaning of the text, the 'spirit'
is its symbolic meaning. And, as the 'spirit' possesses an evident superiority to
the 'letter,' they fly away into the region of secret senses and hidden doctrines,
find types where there is nothing typical, and allegories where there is nothing
allegorical; make Genesis more evangelical than the Epistle to the Romans,
and Leviticus than the Epistle to the Hebrews; mistaking lawful criticism for
legal Christianity, they look upon the exercise of a sober judgment as a proof
of a depraved taste, and forget that diseased as well as very powerful eyes
may see more than others. It is not the obvious meaning and the secret
meaning that are intended by 'letter' and 'spirit,' nor any two meanings of
Christianity, nor two meanings of any thing or things, but the two systems
of Moses and of Christ."
NOTES 389
14. In the Benedictine edition it is suggested that this was probably Valen-
tinian the younger, whose court was, according to Possidius (c. L), at Milan
when Augustine was professor of rhetoric there, who writes (Con. Litt. Petit.
lii. 25) that he in that city recited a panegyric to Bauto, the consul, on the
first of January, according to the requirements of his profession of rhetoric.
15. The games in the provinces of the empire were on the same model as
those held in the Circus Maximus at Rome, though not so imposing. This
circus was one of those vast works executed by Tarquinius Priscus. Hardly
a vestige of it at the present time remains, though the Cloaca Maxima, an-
other of his stupendous works, has not, after more than 2500 years, a stone
displaced, and still performs its appointed service of draining the city of Rome
into the Tiber. In the circus were exhibited chariot and foot races, fights on
horseback, representations of battles (on which occasion camps were pitched
in the circus), and the Grecian athletic sports introduced after the conquest
of that country.
16. Augustine, in book v. sec. 9, above, refers to the reputed sanctity of
Manichaeus, and it may well be questioned whether the sect deserved that
unmitigated reprobation he pours out upon them in his De Moribus t and in
parts of his controversy with Faustus. Certain it is that Faustus laid claim,
on behalf of his sect, to a very different moral character to that Augustine
would impute to them. He says (Con. Faust, v. i): "Do I believe the gospel?
You ask me if I believe it, though my obedience to its commands shows that
I do. I should rather ask you if you believe it, since you give no proof of
your belief. I have left my father, mother, wife, and children, and all else
that the gospel requires (Matt. xix. 29) ; and do you ask if I believe the gospel?
Perhaps you do not know what is called the gospel. The gospel is nothing
else than the preaching and the precept of Christ. I have parted with all gold
and silver, and have left off carrying money in my purse; content with daily
food; without anxiety for to-morrow; and without solicitude about how I
shall be fed, or wherewithal I shall be clothed: and do you ask if I believe
the gospel? You see in me the blessings of the gospel (Matt. v. 3-11) ; and
do you ask if I believe the gospel? You see me poor, meek, a peacemaker,
pure in heart, mourning, hungering, thirsting, bearing persecutions and enmity
for righteousness* sake; and do you doubt my belief in the gospel?" It is
difficult to understand that Manichaeanism can have spread as largely as it did
at that time, if the asceticism of many amongst them had not been real. It
may be noted that in his controversy with Fortunatus, Augustine strangely
declines to discuss the charges of immorality that had been brought against
the Manichseans; and in the last chapter of his De Moribus, it appears to be
indicated that one, if not more, of those whose deeds are there spoken
of had a desire to follow the rule of life laid down by Manichaeus.
17. The scene of this episode was, doubtless, the great Flavian Amphitheatre,
known by us at this day as the Colosseum. It stands in the valley between the
Caelian and Esquiline hills, on the site of a lake formerly attached to the
palace of Nero. Gibbon, in his graphic way, says of the building (Decline and
Fall, L 355): "Posterity admires, and will long admire, the awful remains ol
the amphitheatre of Titus, which so well deserved the epithet nf colossal. It
'39O NOTES
was a building of an elliptic figure, five hundred and sixty-four feet in length,
and four hundred and sixty-seven in breadth, founded on fourscore arches,
and rising, with four successive orders of architecture, to the height of one
hundred and forty feet. The outside of the edifice was encrusted with marble,
and decorated with statues. The slopes of the vast concave which formed the
inside were filled and surrounded with sixty or eighty rows of seats of marble,
likewise covered with cushions, and capable of receiving with ease above four-
score thousand spectators. Sixty-four vomitories (for by that name the doors
were very aptly distinguished) poured forth the immense multitude; and the
entrances, passages, and staircases were contrived with such exquisite skill,
that each person, whether of the senatorial, the equestrian, or the plebeian
order, arrived at his destined place without trouble or confusion. Nothing was
omitted which in any respect could be subservient to the convenience or
pleasure of the spectators. They were protected from the sun and rain by an
ample canopy occasionally drawn over their heads. The air was continually
refreshed by the playing of fountains, and profusely impregnated by the grate-
ful scent of aromatics. In the centre of the edifice, the arena, or stage, was
strewed with the finest sand, and successively assumed the most different
forms; at one moment it seemed to rise out of the earth, like the garden of
the Hesperides, and was afterwards broken into the rocks and caverns of
Thrace. The subterraneous pipes conveyed an inexhaustible supply of water;
and what had just before appeared a level plain might be suddenly converted
into a wide lake, covered with armed vessels and replenished with the mon-
sters of the deep. In the decoration of these scenes the Roman emperors dis-
played their wealth and liberality ; and we read, on various occasions, that the
whole furniture of the amphitheatre consisted either of silver, or of gold, or
of amber." In this magnificent building were enacted venatios or hunting
scenes, sea-fights, and gladiatorial shows, in all of which the greatest lavish-
ness was exhibited. The men engaged were for the most part either criminals or
captives taken in war. On the occasion of the triumph of Trajan for his
victory over the Dacians, it is said that ten thousand gladiators were engaged
in combat, and that in the naumachia or sea-fight shown by Domitian, ships
and men in force equal to two real fleets were engaged, at an enormous ex-
penditure of human life. "If," says James Martineau (Endeavours after the
Christian Life, pp. 261, 262), "you would witness a scene characteristic of the
popular life of old, you must go to the amphitheatre of Rome, mingle with
its eighty thousand spectators, and watch the eager faces of senators and
people; observe how the masters of the world spend the wealth of conquest,
and indulge the pride of power. See every wild creature that God has made
to dwell, from the jungles of India to the mountains of Wales, from the for-
ests of Germany to the deserts of Nubia, brought hither to be hunted down
in artificial groves by thousands in an hour; behold the captives of war, noble,
perhaps, and wise in their own land, turned loose, amid yells of insult, more
terrible for their foreign tongue, to contend with brutal gladiators, trained to
make death the favourite amusement, and present the most solemn of indi-
vidual realities as a wholesale public sport; mark the light look with which
the multitude, by uplifted finger, demands that the wounded combatant be
slam before their eyes; notice the troop of Christian martyrs awaiting hand in
hand the leap from the tiger's den. And when the day's spectacle is over, and
the blood of two thousand victims stains the ring, follow the giddy crowd as
NOTES 391
it streams from the vomitories into the street, trace its lazy course into the
Forum, and hear it there scrambling for the bread of private indolence doled
out by the purse of public corruption; and see how it suns itself to sleep in
the open ways, or crawls into foul dens till morning brings the hope of games
and merry blood again; and you have an idea of the Imperial people, and
their passionate living for the moment, which the gospel found in occupation
of the world." The desire for these shows increased as the empire advanced.
. Constantine failed to put a stop to them at Rome, though they were not ad-
mitted into the Christian capital he established at Constantinople. Attendance
at stage-plays and scenes like these was strongly condemned by the Christian
teachers. The passion, however, for these exhibitions was so great, that they
were only brought to an end after the monk Telemachus horrified that
Christians should witness such scenes had been battered to death by the people
in their rage at his flinging himself between the swordsmen to stop the combat.
This tragic episode occurred in the year 403, at a show held in commemoration
of a temporary success over the troops of Alaric.
18. "I was entangled in the life of this world, clinging to dull hopes of a
beauteous wife, the pomp of riches, the emptiness of honours, and the other
hurtful and destructive pleasures" (Aug. De Util. Credendi, sec. 3). "After I
had shaken off the Manichaeans and escaped, especially when I had crossed the
sea, the Academics long detained me tossing in the waves, winds from all
quarters beating against my helm. And so I came to this shore, and there
found a pole-star to whom to entrust myself. For I often observed in the
discourses of our priest [Ambrose], and sometimes in yours [Theodorus], that
you had no corporeal notions when you thought of God, or even of the soul,
which of all things is next to God. But I was withheld, I own, from casting
myself speedily into the bosom of true wisdom by the alluring hopes of mar-
riage and honours; meaning, when I had obtained these, to press (as few sin-
gularly happy had before me) with oar and sail into that haven, and there
rest" (Aug. De Vita Beata, sec. 4).
19. Similar arguments are made use of in his controversy with Fortunatus
(Dis. ii. 5), where he says, that as Fortunatus could find no answer, so neither
could he when a Manichaean, and that this led him to the true faith. Again,
in his De Moribus (sec. 25), where he examines the answers which had been
given, he commences: "For this gives rise to the question, which used to
throw us into great perplexity, even when we were your zealous disciples, nor
could we find any answer, what the race of darkness would have done to
God, supposing He had refused to fight with it at the cost of such calamity to
part of Himself. For if God would not have suffered any loss by remaining
quiet, we thought it hard that we had been sent to endure so much. Again,
if He would have suffered, His nature cannot have been incorruptible, as it
behoves the nature of God to be." We have already, in a previous note,
note 9, referred to some of the matters touched on in this section; but
they call for further elucidation. The following passage, quoted by Augustine
from Manichaeus himself (Con, Ep. Manich. 19), discloses to us (1) their ideas
as to the nature and position of the two kingdoms: "In one direction, on the
border of this bright and holy region, there was a land of darkness, deep and
vast in extent, where abode fiery bodies^ destructive races. Here was bound-
39 2 NOTES
less darkness flowing from the same source in immeasurable abundance, witk
the productions properly belonging to it. Beyond this were muddy, turbid
waters, with their inhabitants; and inside of them winds terrible and violent,
with their prince and their progenitors. Then, again, a fiery region of destruc-
tion, with its chiefs and peoples. And similarly inside of this, a race full of
smoke and gloom, where abode the dreadful prince and chief of all, having
around him innumerable princes, himself the mind and source of them all.
Such are the five natures of the region of corruption." Augustine also desig-
nates them (ibid. sec. 20) "the five dens of the race of darkness." The nation
of darkness desires to possess the kingdom of light, and prepares to make war
upon it: and in the controversy with Faustus we have (2) the beginning and
issue of the war (Con. Faust, ii. 3; see also De Hazres, 46). Augustine says:
"You dress up for our benefit some wonderful First Man, who came down
from the race of light, to war with the race of darkness, armed with his waters
against the waters of the enemy, and with his fire against their fire, and with
his winds against their winds." And again (ibid. sec. 5) : "You say that he
mingled with the principles of darkness in his conflict with the race of dark-
ness, that by capturing these principles the world might be made out of the
mixture. So that, by your profane fancies, Christ is not only mingled with
heaven and all the stars, but conjoined and compounded with the earth and
all its productions, a Saviour no more, but needing to be saved by you, by
your eating and disgorging Him. This foolish custom of making your dis-
ciples bring you food, that your teeth and stomach may be the means of re-
lieving Christ, who is bound up in it, is a consequence of your profane
fancies. You declare that Christ is liberated in this way, not, however, en-
tirely; for you hold that some tiny particles of no value still remain in the
excrement, to be mixed up and compounded again and again in various mate-
rial forms, and to be released and purified at any rate by the fire in which
the world will be burned up, if not before. Nay, even then, you say, Christ
is not entirely liberated, but some extreme particles of His good and divine
nature, which have been so defiled that they cannot be cleansed, are con-
demned to stay for ever in the mass of darkness." The result of this com-
mingling of the light with the darkness was, that a certain portion and member
of God was turned "from happiness into misery," and placed in bondage in
the world, and was in need of help "whereby it might be delivered and purged."
(See also Con. Fortunat. L 1.)
20. "This," says Watts, "was likely to be the book of Amelius the Platonist,
who hath indeed this beginning of St. John's Gospel, calling the apostle a bar-
barian." This Amelius was a disciple of Plotinus, who was the first to develope
and formulate the Neo-Platonic doctrines, and of whom it is said that he
would not have his likeness taken, nor be reminded of his birthday, because
it would recall the existence of the body he so much despised. A popular ac-
count of the theories of Plotinus, and their connection with the doctrines of
Plato and of Christianity respectively, will be found in Archer Butler's Lectures
on Ancient Philosophy, vol. ii. pp. 348-358. For a more systematic view of his
writings, see Ueberweg's History of Philosophy, sec. 68. Augustine alludes
again in his De Vita Beata (sec. 4) to the influence the Platonic writings had
on him at this time ; and it is interesting to note how in God's providence they
were drawing him to seek a fuller knowledge of Him, just as in his nineteenth
NOTES 393
year (book iii. sec. 7, above) the Hortensius of Cicero stimulated him to the
pursuit of wisdom. Thus in his experience was exemplified the truth em-
bodied in the saying of Clemens Alexandrinus, "Philosophy led the Greeks
to Christ, as the law did the Jews." Archbishop Trench, in his Hulsean Lec-
tures (lees, i and 3, 1846, "Christ the Desire of all Nations"), enters with
interesting detail into this question, specially as it relates to the heathen world.
"None," he says in lecture 3, "can thoughtfully read the early history of the
Church without marking how hard the Jewish Christians found it to make
their own the true idea of a Son of God, as indeed is witnessed by the whole
Epistle to the Hebrews how comparatively easy the Gentile converts; how
the Hebrew Christians were continually in danger of sinking down into Ebio-
nite heresies, making Christ but a man as other men, refusing to go on unto
perfection, or to realize the truth of His higher nature; while, on the other
hand, the genial promptness is as remarkable with which the Gentile Church
welcomed and embraced the offered truth, 'God manifest in the flesh/ We
feel that there must have been effectual preparations in the latter, which
wrought its greater readiness for receiving and heartily embracing this truth
when it arrived." The passage from Amelius the Platonist, referred to at the
beginning of this note, is examined in Burton's Bampton Lectures, note 90.
It has been adverted to by Eusebius, Theodoret, and perhaps by Augustine in
the De Civ. Dei, x. 29. (See Kaye's Clement, pp. 116-124.)
The Neo-Platonic ideas as to the "Word" or A 670?, which Augustine (i)
contrasts during the remainder of this book with the doctrine of the gospel,
had its germ in the writings of Plato. The Greek term expresses both reason
and the expression of reason in speech; and the Fathers frequently illustrate,
by reference to this connection between ideas and uttered words, the fact
that the "Word" that was with God had an incarnate existence in the world
as the "Word" made flesh. By the Logos of the Alexandrian school something
very different was meant from the Christian doctrine as to the incarnation, of
which the above can only be taken as a dim illustration. It has been ques-
tioned, indeed, whether the philosophers, from Plotinus to the Gnostics of the
time of St. John, believed the Logos and the supreme God to have in any
sense separate "personalities." Dr. Burton, in his Bampton Lectures, con-
cludes that they did not (lect. vii. p. 215, and note 93; compare Dorner,
Person of Christ, i. 27, Clark) ; and quotes Origen when he points out to Cel-
sus, that "while the heathen use the reason of God as another term for God
Himself, the Christians use the term Logos for the Son of God." Another
point of difference which appears in Augustine's review of Platonism above,
is found in the Platonist's discarding the idea of the Logos becoming man.
This the very genius of their philosophy forbade them to hold, since they looked
on matter as impure. (2) It has been charged against Christianity by Gibbon
and other sceptical writers, that it has borrowed largely from the doctrines
of Plato; and it has been said that this doctrine of the Logos was taken
from them by Justin Martyr. This charge, says Burton (ibid. p. 194), "has
laid open in its supporters more inconsistencies and more misstatements than
any other which ever has been advanced." Justin Martyr endeavoured
to find it successively in the Stoical, the Peripatetic, the Pythagorean, and the
Platonic schools; and he appears to have thought as highly of Plato's philoso-
phy as did Augustine. He does not, however, fail to criticise his doctrine when
inconsistent with Christianity (see Burton, ibid, notes 18 and 86). Justin
394 NOTES
Martyr has apparently been chosen for attack as being the earliest of the post-
apostolic Fathers. Burton, however, shows that Ignatius, who knew St. John,
and was bishop of Antioch thirty years before his death, used precisely the
same expression as applied to Christ (ibid. p. 204). This would appear to be
a conclusive answer to this objection. (3) It may be well to note here Bur-
ton's general conclusions as to the employment of this term Logos in St. John,
since it occurs frequently in this part of the Confessions. Every one must have
observed St. John's use of the term is peculiar as compared with the other
apostles, but it is not always borne in mind that a generation probably elapsed
between the date of his gospel and that of the other apostolic writings. In this
interval the Gnostic heresy had made great advances; and it would appear
that John, finding this term Logos prevalent when he wrote, infused into it a
nobler meaning, and pointed out to those being led away by this heresy that
there was indeed One who might be called "the Word" One who was not,
indeed, God's mind, or as the word that comes from the mouth and passes
away, but One who, while He had been "made flesh" like unto us, was yet
co-eternal with God. "You will perceive," says Archer Butler (Ancient Philoso-
phy, vol. ii. p. 10), "how natural, or rather how necessary, is such a process,
when you remember that this is exactly what every teacher must do who speaks
of God to a heathen; he adopts the term, but be refines and exalts its mean-
ing. Nor, indeed, is the procedure different in any use whatever of language
in sacred senses and for sacred purposes. On the charge against Christianity of
having borrowed from heathenism, reference may be made to Trench's Hulsean
Lectures, lect i. (1846) ; and for the sources of Gnosticism, and St. John's
treatment of heresies as to the "Word," lects. ii. and v. in Hansel's Gnostic
Heresies will be consulted with profit.
21. i Cor. xv. 9. In giving an account, remarks Pusey, of this-' period to his
friend and patron Romanianus, St. Augustine seems to have blended together
this and the history of his completed conversion, which was also wrought in
connection with words in the same apostle, but the account of which he uni-
formly suppresses, for fear, probably, of injuring the individual to whom he was
writing. "Since that vehement flame which was about to seize me as yet was
not, I thought that by which I was slowly kindled was the very greatest.
When lo! certain books, when they had distilled a very few drops of most
precious unguent on that tiny flame, it is past belief, Romanianus, past belief,
and perhaps past what even you believe of me (and what could I say more?),
nay, to myself also is it past belief, what a conflagration of myself they lighted.
What ambition, what human show, what empty love of fame, or, lastly, what
incitement or band of this mortal life could hold me then? I turned speedily
and wholly back into myself. I cast but a glance, I confess, as one passing on,
upon that religion which was implanted into us as boys, and interwoven with
our very inmost selves; but she drew me unknowing to herself. So then,
stumbling, hurrying, hesitating, I seized the Apostle Paul; 'for never/ said I,
'could they have wrought such things, or lived as it is plain they did live,
if their writings and arguments were opposed to this so high good. 7 I read
the whole most intently and carefully. But then, never so little light having
been shed thereon, such a countenance of wisdom gleamed upon me, that if
I could exhibit it I say not to you, who ever hungeredst after her, though
unknown but to your very adversary casting aside and abandoning whatever
NOTES 395
now stimulates him so keenly to whatsoever pleasures, he would, amazed, pant-
ing, enkindled, fly to her Beauty" (Con. Acad. ii. 5).
22. That is, he became a catechumen, (i) Justin Martyr, describing the
manner of receiving converts into the Church in his day, says (ApoL i. 61):
"As many as are persuaded and believe that what we teach and say is true,
and undertake to be able to live accordingly, are instructed to pray, and to
entreat God with fasting for the remission of their sins that are past, we pray-
ing and fasting with them. Then they are brought by us where there is water,
and are regenerated in the same manner in which we were ourselves regenerated.
And this washing is called illumination, because they who learn these things
are illuminated in their understandings." And again (ibid. 65) : "We, after we
have thus washed him who has been convinced and has assented to our teach-
ing, bring him to the place where those who are called brethren are assembled,
in order that we may offer hearty prayers, in common for ourselves and for
the baptized [illuminated] person, and for all others in every place. . . . Hav-
ing ended the prayers, we salute one another with a kiss. There is then
brought to the president of the brethren bread, and a cup of wine mixed with
water; and he, taking them, gives praise and glory to the Father of the universe,
through the name of the Son and of the Holy Ghost. . . . And when the
president has given thanks, and all the people have expressed their assent, those
who are called by us deacons give to each of those present, to partake of, the
bread and wine mixed with water over which the thanksgiving was pronounced,
and to those who are absent they carry away a portion.*' And once more
(ibid. 66): "This food is called among us Ev%a/H<rr/a [the Eucharist], of which
no one is allowed to partake but the man who believes that the things which we
teach are true, and who has been washed with the washing that is for the
remission of sins, and unto regeneration, and who is so living as Christ has
enjoined." (2) In Watts' translation, we have the following note on this epi-
sode in our text: "Here be clivers particulars of the primitive fashion, in this
story of Victorinus. First, being converted, he was to take some well-known
Christian (who was to be his godfather) to go with him to the bishop, who,
upon notice of it, admitted him a catechumenus, and gave him those six points
of catechistical doctrine mentioned Heb. vi. i, 2. When the time of baptism
drew near, the young Christian came to give in his heathen name, which was
presently registered, submitting himself to examination. On the eve, was he,
in a set form, first, to renounce the devil, and to pronounce, I confess to Thee,
O Christ, repeating the Creed with it, in the form here recorded. The time
for giving in their names must be within the two first weeks in Lent ; and the
solemn day to renounce upon was Maundy Thursday. So bids the Council of
Laodicea (Can. 4$ and 46)." The renunciation adverted to by Watts in the
above passage may be traced to an early period in the writings of the Fathers.
It is mentioned by Tertullian, Ambrose, and Jerome; and "in the fourth cen-
tury," says Palmer (Origines Liturgicce, c. 5, sec. 2, where the authorities will
be found) , "the renunciation was made with great solemnity. Cyril of Jerusa-
lem, speaking to those who had been recently baptized, said, 'First, you have
entered into the vestibule of the baptistry, and, standing towards the west,
you have heard, and been commanded, and stretch forth your hands, and re-
nounce Satan as if he were present.' This rite of turning to the west at the
renunciation of Satan is also spoken of by Jerome, Gregory, Nazianzen. and
NOTES
Ambrose; and it was sometimes performed with exsufflations and other external
signs of enmity to Satan, and rejection of him and his works. To the present
day these customs remain in the patriarchate of Constantinople, where the
candidates for baptism turn to the west to renounce Satan, stretching forth
their hands, and using an exsufflation as a sign of enmity against him. And
the Monophysites of Antioch and Jerusalem, Alexandria and Armenia, also
retain the custom of renouncing Satan with faces turned to the west."
23. It may be well here to say a few words in regard to Monachism and
Antony's relation to it: (i) There is much in the later Platonism, with its
austerities and bodily mortifications (see also note 20 above), which ia
in common with the asceticism of the early Church. The Therapeutae of Philo,
indeed, of whom there were numbers in the neighbourhood of Alexandria in
the first century, may be considered as the natural forerunners of the Egyptian
monks. (2) Monachism, according to Sozomen (i. 12), had its origin in a
desire to escape persecution by retirement into the wilderness. It is probable,
however, that, as.. in the case of Paul the hermit of Thebais, the desire for
freedom from the cares of life, so that by contemplation and mortification of
the body, the \6yos or inner reason (which was held to be an emanation of
God) might be purified, had as much to do with the hermit life as a fear of
persecution. Mosheim, indeed (Ecc. Hist. i. part 2, c. 3), supposes Paul to
have been influenced entirely by these Platonic notions. (3) Antony was born
in the district of Thebes, AJX 251, and visited Paul in the Egyptian desert a
little before his death. To Antony is the world indebted for establishing com-
munities of monks, as distinguished from the solitary asceticism of Paul; he
therefore is rightly viewed as the founder of Monachism. He appears to have
known little more than how to speak his native Coptic, yet during his long
life (said to have been 100 years) he by his fervent enthusiasm made for him*
self a name little inferior to that of the "king of men," Athanasius, whom in
the tune of the Arian troubles he stedfastly supported, and by whom his life
has been handed down to us. Augustine, in his De Doctr. Christ. (Prol. sec. 4),
speaks of him as "a just and holy man, who, not being able to read himself
is said to have committed the Scriptures to memory through hearing them read
by others, and by dint of wise meditation to have arrived at a thorough under-
standing of them." (4) According to Sozomen (Hi. 14), monasteries had not
been established in Europe A.D. 340. They were, Baronius tells us, introduced
into Rome about that date by Athanasius, during a visit to that city. Atha-
nasius mentions "ascetics" as dwelling at Rome A.D. 355. Ambrose, Bishop of
Milan, Martin, Bishop of Tours, and Jerome were enthusiastic supporters of
the system. (5) Monachism in Europe presented more of its practical and less
of its contemplative side, than in its cradle in the East. An example of how
the monks of the East did work for the good of others is seen in the instance
of the monks of Pachomius; still in this respect, as in matters of doctrine,
the West has generally shown itself more practical than the East. Probably
climate and the style of living consequent thereon have much to do with this.
Sulpicius Severus (dial. i. 2, De Vita Martini) may be taken to give a quaint
illustration of this, when he makes one of his characters say, as he hears of
the mode of living of the Eastern monks, that their diet was only suited to
angels. However mistaken we may think the monkish systems to be, it cannot
be concealed that in the days of anarchy and semi-barbarism they were often-
NOTES 397
times centres of civilisation. Certainly in its originating idea of meditative
seclusion, there is much that is worthy of commendation ; for, as Farindon has
it (Works, iv. 130), "This has been the practice not only of holy men, but of
heathen men. Thus did Tully, and Antony, and Crassus make way to that
honour and renown which they afterwards purchased in eloquence (Cicero, De
Officiis, ii. 13, viii. 7) ; thus did they pass a solitudine in scholas, a scholis in
forum, 'from their secret retirement into the schools, and from the schools
into the pleading-place.' "
Augustine, when comparing Christian with Manichaean asceticism, says in
his De Mor. Eccl. Cath. (sec. 70), "I saw at Milan a lodging-house of saints,
in number not a few, presided over by one presbyter, a man of great excellence
and learning." In the previous note we have given the generally received
opinion, that the first monastery in Europe was established at Rome. It may
be mentioned here that Muratori maintains that the institution was trans-
planted from the East first to Milan; others contend that the first European
society was at Aquileia.
24. As in nature, the men of science tell us, no two atoms touch, but that,
While an inner magnetism draws them together, a secret repulsion keeps them
apart, so it is with human souls. Into our deepest feelings our dearest friends
cannot enter. In the throes of conversion, for example, God's ministering
servants may assist, but He alone can bring the soul to the birth. So it was
here in the case of Augustine. He felt that now even the presence of his dear
friend would be a burden, God alone could come near, so as to heal the sore
wound of his spirit, and Alypius was a friend who knew how to keep silence,
and to await the issue of his friend's profound emotion. How comfortable a
thing to find in those who would give consolation the spirit that animated
the friends of Job, when "they sat down with him upon the ground seven
days and seven nights, and none spake a word unto him; for they saw that
his grief was very great" (Job ii. 13). Well has Rousseau said: "Les conso-
lations indiscretes ne font qu'aigrir les violentes afflictions. L'indifference et
la froideur trouvent aisement des paroles, mais la tristesse et le silence sont
alors le vrai langage de Famitie." A beautiful exemplification of this is found
in Victor Hugo's portrait of Bishop Myriel, in Les Miserables (c. iv.) "II
savait s'asseoir et se taire de tongues heures aupres de 1'homme qui avait perdu
la femme qu'il aimait, de la mre qui avait perdu son enfant. Comme il savait
le moment de se taire, il savait aussi le moment de parler. admirable con-
solateur! il ne cherchait pas a effacer la douleur par 1'oubli, mais a 1'agrandir
et a la dignifier par 1'esperance."
25. Ecclus. xix. i. Augustine frequently alludes to the subtle power of little
things. As when he says, illustrating (Serm. cclxxviii.) by the plagues of
Egypt, tiny insects, if they be numerous enough, will be as harmful as the
bite of great beasts; and (Serm. Ivi.) a hill of sand, though composed of tiny
grains, will crush a man as surely as the same weight of lead. Little drops
(Serm. Iviii.) make the river, and little leaks sink the ship; wherefore, he urges,
little things must not be despised. "Men have usually," says Sedgwick in his
Anatomy of Secret Sins, "been first wading in lesser sins who are now swim-
ming in great transgressions." It is in the little things of evil that temptation
has its greatest strength. The snowflake is little and not to be accounted of,
398 NOTES
but from its multitudinous accumulation results the dread power of the ava-
lanche. Satan often seems to act as it is said Pompey did, when he could
not gain entrance to a city. He persuaded the citizens to admit a few of his
weak and wounded soldiers, who, when they had become strong, opened the
gates to his whole army. But if little things have such subtlety in temptation,
they have likewise higher ministries. The Jews, in their Talmudical writings,
have many parables illustrating how God by little things tries and proves
men to see if they are fitted for greater things. They say, for example, that He
tried David when keeping sheep in the wilderness, to see whether he would be
worthy to rule over Israel, the sheep of his inheritance. See Ch. Schoettgen,
Hor. Heb. et Talmud, i. 300.
26. The origin of prayers for the dead dates back probably to the close of
the second century. Tertullian, in his De Corona Militis says, "Oblationes pro
defunctis pro natalitiis annua die facimus." In his De Monogamia, he speaks
of a widow praying for her departed husband, that "he might have rest, and be
a partaker in the first resurrection." From this time a catena of quotations
from the Fathers might be given, if space permitted, showing how, beginning
with early expressions of hope for the dead, there, in process of time, arose
prayers even for the unregenerate, until at last there was developed purgatory
on the one side, and creature-worship on the other. That Augustine did not
entertain the idea of creature-worship will be seen from his Ep. to Maximus
xvii. 5. In his De Dulcit. Qucest. 2 (where he discusses the whole question) , he
concludes that prayer must not be made for all, because all have not led the
same life in the flesh. Still, in his Enarr. in Ps. cviii. 17, he argues from the case
of the rich man in the parable, that the departed do certainly "have a care for
us." Aerius, towards the close of the fourth century, objected to prayers for the
dead, chiefly on the ground (see Usher's Answer to a Jesuit, iii. 258) of their
uselessness. In the Church of England, as will be seen by reference to Reeling's
Liturgies Britannicoe, pp. 210, 335, 339, and 341, prayers for the dead were
eliminated from the second Prayer Book; and to the prudence of this step
Palmer bears testimony in his Origines Liturgicce, iv. 10, justifying it on the
ground that the retaining of these prayers implied a belief in her holding the
doctrine of purgatory. Reference may be made to Epiphanius, Adv. Hozr. 75;
Biship Bull, Sermons 3 ; and Bingham, xv. 3, sees. 15, 16, and xxiii. 3, sec. 13.
27. Anaximenes of Miletus was born about 520 B.C. According to his
philosophy the air was animate, and from it, as from a first principle, all
things in heaven, earth, and sea sprung, first by condensation (irtiKixao-Ls) , and
after that by a process of rarefaction (dpcuWts) . See Ep. cxviii. 23; and Aris-
totle, Phys. iii. 4. Compare this theory and that of Epicurus with those of
modern physicists; and see thereon The Unseen Universe, arts. 85, etc., and
117, etc.
28. Compare Gillies (Analysis of Aristotle, c. 2. p. 138) : "As our conception
of space originates in that of body, and our conception of motion in that of
space, so our conception of time originates in that of motion; and particularly
in those regular and equable motions carried on in the heavens, the parts of
which, from their perfect similarity to each other, are correct measures of the
continuous and successive quantity called Time, with which they are conceived
NOTES 399
to co-exist. Time, therefore, may be defined as the perceived number of suc-
cessive movements; for, as number ascertains the greater or lesser quantity of
things numbered, so time ascertains the greater or lesser quantity of
motion performed.'* And with this accords Monboddo's definition of time
(Ancient Metaphysics, vol. i. book 4, chap, i), as "the measure of the duration
of things that exist in succession by the motion of the heavenly bodies."
29. With the argument in this and the previous sections, compare Dr. Reid's
remarks in his Intellectual Powers, iii. 3: "We may measure duration by the
succession of thoughts in the mind, as we measure length by inches or feet, but
the notion or idea of duration must be antecedent to the mensuration of it, as
the notion of length is antecedent to its being measured. . . . Reason, from
the contemplation of finite extended things, leads us necessarily to the belief
of an immensity that contains them. In like manner, memory gives us the
conception and belief of finite intervals of duration. From the contemplation
of these, reason leads us necessarily to the belief of an eternity, which compre-
hends all things that have a beginning and an end." The student will with
advantage examine a monograph on this subject by C. Fortlage, entitled,
Aurelii Augustini doctrina de tempore ex libra xi. Confessionum depromta,
AristoteticM, Kantzanoe, aliarumque theoriariim recensione aucta, et congrtds
hodiernoe philosophies ideis amplificata (Heidelbergae, 1836). He says that
amongst all the philosophers none have so nearly approached truth as Augustine.
30. As Augustine constantly urges of God, "Cujus nulla scientia est in enima,
nisi scire quomodo eum nesciat" (De Ord. ii. 18), so we may say of the Trinity,
The objectors to the doctrine sometimes speak as if it were irrational (Hansel's
Bampton Lectures, lect. vi., notes 9, 10). But while the doctrine is above
reason, it is not contrary thereto; and, as Dr. Newman observes in his Gram-
mar of Assent, v. 2 (a book which the student should remember has been
written since his union with the Roman Church), though the doctrine be
mysterious, and, when taken as a whole, transcends all our experience, there
is that on which the spiritual life of the Christian can repose in its "proposi-
tions taken one by one, and not in the case of intellectual and thoughtful
minds only, but of all religious minds whatever, in the case of a child or a
peasant as well as of a philosopher." With the above compare the words of
Leibnitz in his "Discours de la Conformite de la Foi avec la Raison," sec. 56:
"II en est de meme des autres mysteres, ou les esprits moderes trouveront
toujours une explication suffisante pour croire, et jamais autant qu'il en faut
pour comprendre. II nous suffit d'un certain ce que c'est (rl eem) ; mais le
comment (irus) nous passe, et ne nous est point necessaire" (CEuvres de Locke
et Leibnitz).
31. While giving illustrations of the Trinity like the above, he would not
have a man think "that he has discovered that which is above these, Un-
changeable." (See also De Trin. xv. 5, end.) He is very fond of such illus-
trations. In his De Civ. Dei, xi. 26, 27, for example, we have a parallel to this
in our text, in the union of existence, knowledge, and love in man; in his De
Trin. ix. 4, 17, 18, we have mind, knowledge, and love; ibid. x. 19, memory,
understanding, and will; and ibid. xi. 16, memory, thought, and will. In his
De Lib, Arb. ii. 7, again, we have the doctrine illustrated by the union of be-
4-OO NOTES
ing, life, and knowledge in man. He also finds illustrations of the doctrine in
other created things, as in their measure, weight, and number (De Trin. xi. 18),
and their existence, figure, and order (De Vera Relig. xiii.). The nature of
these illustrations would at first sight seem to involve him in the Sabellian
heresy, which denied the fulness of the Godhead to each of the three Persons
of the Trinity; but this is only in appearance. He does not use these illustra-
tions as presenting anything analogous to the union of the three Persons in
the Godhead, but as dimly illustrative of it. He declares his belief in the
Athanasian doctrine, which, as Dr. Newman observes (Grammar of Assent,
v* 2), "may be said to be summed up in this very formula on which St. Augus-
tine lays so much stress, 'Tres et Unus,' not merely 'Unum.' " Nothing can be
clearer than his words in his De Civ. Dei, xi. 24: "When we inquire regarding
each singly, it is said that each is God and Almighty; and when we speak of
all together, it is said that there are not three Gods, nor three Almighties, but
one God Almighty." Compare with this his De Trin. vii., end of ch. n, where
the language is equally emphatic. See also Mansel, as above, lect. vi. and notes
ii and 12.
32. i Cor. iii. 2, and Heb. v. 12. The allusion in our text is to what is
called the Disdplina Arcani of the early Church. Clement of Alexandria, in his
Stromata, enters at large into the matter of esoteric teaching, and traces its
use amongst the Hebrews, Greeks, and Egyptians. Clement, like Chrysostom
and other Fathers, supports this principle of interpretation on the authority of
St. Paul in Heb. v. and vi., referred to by Augustine above. He says (as
quoted by Bishop Kaye, Clement of Alexandria, ch. iv. p. 183): "Babes must
be fed with milk, the perfect man with solid food; milk is catechetical instruc-
tion, the first nourishment of the soul; solid food, contemplation penetrating
into all mysteries (TI eTroTmwr] eeupia), the blood and flesh of the Word, the
comprehension of the Divine power and essence." Augustine, therefore, when
he speaks of being "contented with the light of the moon and stars," alludes
to the partial knowledge imparted to the catechumen during his probationary
period before baptism. It was only as competentes, and ready for baptism,
that the catechumens were taught the Lord's Prayer and the Creed. We have
already adverted to this matter, and need not now do more than refer the
reader to Dr. Newman's Arians, In ch. i. sec. 3 of that work, there are some
most interesting pages on this subject, in its connection with the Catechetical
School of Alexandria.
INDEX
ABRAHAM'S bosom, 192, 346.
Academics, Augustine has a leaning
towards the philosophy of the, 99;
they doubted everything, 100, 105.
Academics, the three, 387.
Actions of the patriarchs, 53.
Adeodatus, Augustine's son, helps his
father in writing The Master, 199.
Adversity the blessing of the New
Testament, prosperity of the Old,
385-
^Eneas, the wanderings of, 16, 17, 18.
Affections, in darkened, lies distance
from God, 23; inordinate, bring
their own punishment, 16, 24, 28.
Agent es in rebus, their office, 174;
Evodius is one of the, 201.
Agonistic garland, Augustine receives
the, 63.
Allegories in Scripture, 387.
Altar, Augustine begs that his mother
may be remembered at the, 216.
Alypius, bishop of Thagaste, was born
at that city; had studied there and
at Carthage with Augustine; his
love of the circus, 117; was taken
up as a thief at Carthage, 121; how
his innocence was proved, 121, 122;
his integrity in judgment and at
Milan, 123, 124; his discussion with
Augustine as to celibacy, 127; re-
tires with Augustine into the garden,
178; the conversation of, 187.
Ambrose, bishop of Milan, Augustine
makes his acquaintance, and is re-
ceived by him in a fatherly way;
his eloquence, 103; distinction be-
tween his teaching and that of
Faustus, and its influence, 104;
Monica's love for, 107, 109; celi-
bacy of, 109; in his 1 study, no;
he expounded the Scriptures every
Lord's day, no; Simplicianus suc-
Ambrose (cont'd)
ceeds him as bishop, 161; is perse-
cuted by Justina, the mother of
Valentinian, 200; miracles wrought
in behalf of, 200.
Amelius the Platonist, 392.
Amphitheatre of Titus, Gibbon's de-
scription of the, 389.
Anaximenes of Miletus, his notions
about God, 224, 225, 398.
Angels, God's eternity manifest in their
unchangeableness, 312; Augustine
asserts that they are changeable,
317; misery of, shows their former
excellence, 345.
Answer to prayer of Monica, 58, 96;
Augustine's faith strengthened by,
197.
Antony, an Egyptian monk, the
founder of Monachism, 173; was
born at Thebes, and visited Paul
in the desert before his death, 396.
Anubis, 164.
J A.Troxara<jTa0tSj the doctrine unneces-
sary, 386.
Approbation, Augustine's love of 76;
especially that of Hierius, 75, 77.
Arcesilas, teaching of, 387
Architect, God the great, 258; Alypius
and the, 122.
Argument, Augustine's power in, 59.
Arians, the Empress Justina seduced
by the, 200.
Aristotle's Ten Predicaments, 80; cate-
gories of, So, 386; he and Zeno
prepared the way for Neo-Platon-
ism, 387.
Arts, liberal, Augustine understood the
books relating to the, unaided, 81.
Asceticism, of Paul of Thebais, 396;
Manichaean, as compared with
Christian, 396.
Astrologers, divinations of the, 141,
401
4O2
INDEX
Astrology, refutation of, 142, 143.
Atoms, in nature no two touch, 397.
Atonement, the, 271.
Augustine, describes his infancy, $, 6,
7; Ms boyhood, 10-26; how he
learns to speak, n; he prays to
God that he may not be beaten, 12 ;
his fondness for play, 13; educated
from his mother's womb in the true
faith, 14; he was signed with the
cross, and seasoned with salt, 14,
383; his hatred of study and the
Greek language, but delight in
Latin and the empty fables of the
poets, 16; the reason of this, 18;
Homer distasteful to him because it
was in Greek, 18; he entreats that
whatever he learnt as a boy may
be dedicated to God, 19; his decla-
mation applauded above that of his
fellows, 22 j he was more afraid of
making a mistake in grammar than
of offending God, 24; he commit-
ted petty thefts and sought dishon-
est victories at play, 24; he deplores
the wickedness of his youth, 27, 28;
especially that of his sixteenth year,
29; he used to go to Madaura to
learn grammar and rhetoric; his
father, though only a poor freeman
of Thagaste, made a great sacrifice
to send his son to Carthage, 29;
he plumes himself upon being more
licentious than his fellows, 31; his
mother unwisely opposes his mar-
rying, 32; he robs a neighboring
pear-tree from a love of mischief,
33; he is caught in the snares of a
licentious passion, 41; his love of
stage-plays, 42; he is affected by
a foul spiritual disease, 44; his sac-
rilegious curiosity, 44; not even in
church does he suppress his desires,
44; he becomes head in the school
of rhetoric, 45; he begins to study
eloquence; his father dies in his
seventeenth year, 45; in his nine-
teenth year he is led by the Hor-
tensius of Cicero to philosophy, 46;
lie rejects the Sacred Scriptures as
Augustine (cont'd)
too simple, 47; he falls into the
errors of the Manichseans, 47, 79;
his longing after truth, 47, 48;
Manichsean system, peculiarly en-
thralling to an ardent mind like his,
383; his desire for knowledge
caused him to join the Manichaeans,
384; his victory over inexperienced
persons, 59; the nine years from his
nineteenth year, 60-82; he teaches
rhetoric, 61; he has a mistress, 61;
he receives the Agonistic garland, 63 ;
he is given to divination, 64; his
friend's illness and death, 65, 66;
his grief, 65, 66; he leaves Tha-
gaste and goes to Carthage, 69; he
writes books on the "Fair and Fit,"
75; he dedicates them to Hierius;
he longs for his commendation, 75;
he turns his attention to the nature
of the mind, 78; in what he con-
ceived the chief good to consist, 78;
he calls it a Monad, and the chief
evil a Duad, 78; when scarce
twenty, he understood Aristotle's
Ten Predicaments, 80; his ready
understanding of the liberal arts,
8 1 ; and sciences, Si ; his wit a snare
to him, 82; the twenty-ninth year
of his age, 83-105; he begins to ap-
preciate the knowledge of God
above secular learning, 87 ; he with-
draws from the errors of the Mani-
chaeans, being remarkably aided by
God, 93; he leaves Carthage to go
to Rome, 94; he deceives his
mother, 95 ; he is attacked by fever,
96; is restored, 98; becomes one of
the "elect" of the Manichaeans, 99;
his view of Arcesilas* pilosophy,
387; his erroneous views as to
Christianity, 100; he goes to Milan
to teach rhetoric, and there makes
the acquaintance of Ambrose, 103;
he resolves to abandon the Mani-
chaeans and become a catechumen,
105; his thirtieth year, 106-132; his
mother follows him over the sea,
1 06; he recognises the falsity of
INDEX
403
Augustine (cont'd)
his old opinions, in; he describes
how Alypius, led into the circus by
his fellow-students, becomes fasci-
nated by the fights held there, 119,
120; he becomes inflamed with the
love of wisdom, 125; he is troubled
in mind, 126, 127, 131; he is pre-
vented from marrying by Alypius,
127; is urged by his mother to
marry, and a maiden sought for
him, 129; he sends his mistress back
to Africa, but takes another, 130,
131; in his thirty -'first' year he re-
calls the beginning of his youth,
133-160; his conception of God, 133
*34 *3S> 138; his mind is severely
exercised as to the origin of evil,
144, 145; is stimulated to wisdom
by the Hortensius of Cicero, 176,
393; his conception of Christ, 156;
he rejoices that he proceeded from
Plato to the Scriptures, and not the
reverse, 158; he found in the latter
what was not in the former, 159 ; he
consults Simplicianus as to the
renewing of his mind, 161; he de-
scribes the thirty-second year of his
age, 161-187; he is still held by the
love of women, 162 ; he burns to
imitate Victorinus, 169; his review
of his life, 175; he retires with Al-
ypius into the garden, 178; his
trouble of spirit, 178; he refutes
the Manichaean notion of two kinds
of minds, 180, 181; was still en-
thralled by his old loves, 183; he
retires into solitude to meditate, and
hears a voice saying, "Take up and
read," 186; his reason for giving
up his professorship, 189; his lungs
become affected, 190; he retires to
the villa of his friend Verecundus,
191 ; he finally gives up the profes-
sorship, 193; effect of the Psalms
on him, especially the fourth, 194,
196 ; his anger against the Manichse-
ftns, 194; in his thirty -fourth year
he writes his book The Master, a
dialogue between him and his son,
Augustine (cont'd)
198 ; he suffers from toothache, but
loses it in answer to prayer, 197;
his last conversation with his
mother, 207, 208, 209; his grief at
her death, 211-214; he is troubled
that he was so long without God,
247; effect of church music on him,
255; object and use of his Confes-
sions, 220, 221, 222, 273; he entreats
of God that he may be led to the
truth through the Scriptures, 274-
276; he designates Eraclius as his
successor, 274; he prays to be
taught by God, 292; his old no-
tions as to matter, 307, 308; his
longings for the heavenly Jerusalem,
320; was addicted to the allegorical
explanation of Scripture, 339.
Authority, and morals, 53 ; of the holy
writings, 114, 115.
BAPTISM, Augustine being seized with
illness, prays for; on his recovery it
was postponed, 14; in Augustine's
days often deferred till death ap-
proached, 383; wrongly deferred,
383; guilt after, greater than be-
fore, 14, 15, 383; that of Nebridius
took place when he was ill and un-
conscious, 65 ; the washing of, called
illumination, 349, 395; renunciation
of Satan before, 395; gives life,
Lord's Supper maintains it, 362.
Bath, soothing powers of the, 213.
Bauto, the consul at Milan, 389.
Beasts of the field symbolical of those
given to carnal pleasures, 86.
Beautiful, love of the, 75.
Beauty of God, 4, 48.
Beggar, the joyous, 115.
Beginning, Christ the, of all things;
the Word the, 280; the words, "In
the beginning," interpreted differ-
ently, 324, 333.
Blind man, the, cured, 200.
Body, soul, and spirit, as distinct from
soul, 155; the mind commands the,
179, 180.
Books, the Manichsean, 92.
404
INDEX
Boyhood, Augustine's fondness for
play in, 13 ; he thanks God for his,
25, 26.
CAESAR, Christ paid tribute to, 86.
Calling upon God, i.
Carthage, Augustine sent by his
father to pursue his studies at, 29,
41; he leaves that city on account
of the violent habits of the students
there, 94.
Cassiacum, Verecundus' villa at, 192.
Catechumens, seasoned with salt, 14,
383; or "Hearers" of the Manichae-
ans, their privileges, 384; Augustine
resolves to become one in the Cath-
olic Church, 105; before baptism,
400; when ready for, they were
termed Competentes, 400.
Categories of Aristotle may be classed
under two heads, 80, 386.
Catiline loved not his villainies, but
had a motive for committing them,
34-
Cavils, Manichaan, 282, 283, 303, 317.
Celibacy, discussion of Augustine and
Alypius concerning, 127.
Chief evil, nature of the, 78.
Chief good, Augustine's conception of
the, 78; Varro gives 288 different
opinions as regards the, 384; God
the, 139.
Childhood, the sins of, found in man-
hood; an emblem of humility, 25.
Christ, the fulness of the Godhead is
in, 46; humiliation of, for us, 74;
our very life, 74; paid tribute to
Csesar, 86; humanity of, 147; ful-
ness of, 147; the Mediator, 155; a
perfect man, 157; the two natures
of, 270; as God, the country to
which we go, as man, the way by
which we go, 159; healing in Him
alone, 159; the Victor and Victim,
Priest and Sacrifice, 271; the Be-
ginning, 280.
Christian, certainty of the faith of the,
as compared with the uncertainty of
the teaching of the philosophers,
387.
Christianity gives the golden key to
happiness, 385; Augustine's erro-
neous views as to, 387,
Church, the, history of, creation type
of the, 349; music of, its effect on
Augustine, 255.
Circensian games, Alypius' love of the,
117; how cured of it, 118; he be-
comes Augustine's pupil, and is
involved in the same superstition as
his friend, 119; Augustine becomes
carried away by the love of the,
120; they were put a stop to by
the sacrifice of Telemachus the
monk, 391.
Cicero, his opinion concerning Arcesi-
las' teaching, 387; Augustine studies
his Hortensius, 41 ; and is stimulated
to wisdom thereby, 176, 393.
Circus, games of the, 120, 389, 390.
Classics, highly esteemed in Augus-
tine's day, 17; objections to the
study of the, 22.
Commandments, modes of dividing
the Ten, 54.
Community, Augustine and his/ friends
proposed to establish a, 130.
Companions, influence of bad, 38.
Competentes, name given to Catechu-
mens when ready for baptism, 357.
Conception of Christ, Augustine's, 156;
of God, 133, 134, 135, 138, I4S-
Confession to God, Augustine urges
the duty of, 83; is piety, 88; use
of Augustine's, 220, 221; object of
his, 273.
Confirmation sometimes called a sacra-
ment by the Fathers, 395.
Constantine was not baptized till the
end of his life, 383.
Constantius enacted laws against
Paganism, 169.
Contemplation, the reward of prac-
tical duties, 355.
Continency, false and seducing, of
the Manichaeans, 119, 389; beauty
of, 184; imposed on us, 249.
Conversion, Monica's dream of her
son's, 57; of Victorinus, 166; of
Paul, 1 60; of Alypius, 186.
INDEX
405
Converts, how received in Justin
Martyr's time, 395.
Corporeal brightness, Augustine
thought of God as a, 82; forms,
Augustine's mind ranges through,
77, 79; but later on he repudiates
the notion of a, in.
Corruption, the five regions of, 136.
Courtiers, history of the two, 173-175.
Creasti, explanation of, 160.
Creation praises God, 83, 152; har-
mony of the, 151-154; testifies to a
Creator, 277; doctrine of the Trin-
ity emblemized in the, 343; history
of the, a type of the Church, 349.
Creator, true joy to be found only in
the, 36; putting the creature above
the, 87; God the, 278.
Cross of Christ symbolized, 19.
Curds, the mountain of, 192.
Curiosity, a help to learning, 19; af-
fects a desire for knowledge, 36;
Augustine's sacrilegious, 44; evil of,
to Augustine, 120; a snare to Alyp-
ius, 128, 134; temptation of, stimu-
lated by the lust of the eyes, 260;
for experiment's sake, 260; mani-
fold temptations of, 261.
Custom, force of, 20; true inner
righteousness doth not judge accord-
ing to, 51; versus law, 94; the
weight of carnal, 154; power of,
170.
Customs, human, to be obeyed, 53.
Cyprian, oratory in memory of, 96.
DANAE, 21.
Darkness and light, 391.
Dead, prayers for the, 212, 398;
festivals in honour of the, 108.
Death-bed baptism of Nebridius, 65.
Declamation, Augustine's, applauded
above that of his fellow-students,
22.
Dido, 16, 17.
Distentio, distraction, 302.
Divination, the soothsayers used sac-
rifices in their, 61; the mathema-
ticians did not do so, 62; Augus-
tine's obstinate belief in, but his
Divination (cont'd)
friend Nebridius scoffs at it, 64;
afterwards influenced by Augustine,
he too believes in it, 65; of the as-
trologers, 141, 142.
Drachma, the woman and the, 166,
239-
Dream, of Monica concerning her
son's conversion, 57; temptation in,
250.
Drunkenness forbidden by God, 252,
253.
Duad, Monad and, 78, 385.
EAR, the delights of the, 255.
Education, Augustine disapproves of
the mode of, in his day, 20.
Egyptians, gold of the, belongs to
God, 149.
"Elect" of the Manichseans, 56, 60,
384; Augustine becomes one of the,
98; divine substance in the, 137.
Eloquence, Augustine begins to study,
45; Greek and Latin, Hierius'
knowledge of, 76; of Faustus, 90,
91; of Ambrose, 103.
Enemies of God, who are the, 386.
Epicureanism, popularity of, 131.
Esau, Jacob and, illustrations con-
cerning, 144; his longing after the
Egyptian food, 148,
Eternal, on comprehending the, 282.
Eternity, of God, 8, 149; relation of,
to the mutable creature, 312; time
has no relation to, 283; God's to-
day is, 285.
Eucharist, regeneration necessary be-
fore the reception of the, 395 ; called
by the ancients "the sacrament of
perfection;" maintains life which
baptism gives, 362.
Eunuchus, Terence's, 21.
Ever sores, or subverters, 45.
Evil, whence is? see Manich&ans;
Augustine's notions concerning, 384;
the chief, Augustine calls a Duad,
78; Manichaean doctrine of, 100,
101; the cause of, 136, 137, 138;
origin of, 139, 140, 144; not a sub-
stance, 151, 154,
406
INDEX
Evil habits bind like iron, 170; con-
viction powerless against, 171.
Evodius, became associated with Au-
gustine, 201 ; he leads the singing at
Monica's funeral, 212.
Excess, by grace we avoid, 253.
Eyes, the lust of the, 259, 260.
FABLES, Manichsean, 92; old wives',
98.
"Fair and Fit," Augustine's book as
to the, 75, So.
Faith, preaching leads to, 2 ; the Mani-
chaeans exalted reason at the ex-
pense of, 383; the rule of, 57, 187;
reason and, 113, 114.
Fame, the emptiness of popular, 60.
Fasting enjoined by Justin Martyr as
a preparation for baptism, 395.
Faustus, a bishop of the Manichaeans,
goes to Carthage, 85; eloquence of,
90, 91; his knowledge superficial,
90, 91, 92; distinction between his
teaching and that of Ambrose, 104.
Fear, joy in proportion to past, 166,
167.
Fever, Nebridius falls sick of a, and
dies, 66; Augustine is attacked by,
96.
Fictions, Augustine's love of, 18, 21;
evils of, 20, 21 ; results of, to Au-
gustine, 44; Manichaean, 48.
Fidelesy the, 107.
Fig-tree, Manichaean delusions con-
cerning, 56.
Firmament allegorical explanation of
the, 352, 353, 36o.
Firminius, a friend of Augustine's,
141; studies the constellations, and
relates a story to disprove astrology,
142, 143.
Flesh, the Word made, 146, 147, 156-
157, 271, 393.
Forgetfulness the privation of mem-
ory, 235-237-
Fortunatus, Augustine's controversy
with, 136.
Free-will, 79, 386; the cause of evil,
136, 137; absence of, the punish-
ment of former sin, 179.
Friendship, of the world enmity to
God, 17; false, 38, 39, 64; between
Augustine and Nebridius, 64, 65;
of Pylades and Orestes, 67.
Fruit, distinction between the "gift"
and the, 370-373; of the earth al-
legorized, 371.
Funerals, rites at Monica's, 2*12.
GENESIS, what Moses meant in the
book of, 332; repetition of the al-
legorical interpretation of, 380.
Gibbon, his description of the amphi-
theatre of Titus, 389; his charge of
Platonism against Christianity, 393.
Gifts, diversities of, given by the
Spirit, 357; distinction between the
"gift" and the "fruit," 371-373-
Gnostic opinion as to the origin of
the world, 376.
God, worthy of praise, i, 83 ; man de-
sires to praise Him, His power and
wisdom, i; true rest in Him only,
i, 40, 74, 268; knowledge of, i;
omnipresence of, 2, 84 ; attributes of,
2-5, 36; naught can contain, 3; He
filleth all things, 3; by filling them
He created them, 71; majesty of,
3; unchangeableness of, 4, 48, 73,
150, 386; beauty of, 4, 48; always
working, yet always at rest, 4, 381;
providence of, 5; eternal, 8, 149; is
Truth, 48, 71, 87, 150, 244, 246 333,'
sought wrongly not to be found, 50 ;
His care of us, 57; the true light,
149, 258; the fountain of light, 268;
should be our highest love, 70; all
good is from, 74; unity of, 81; our
supreme good, 82; to be preferred
to learning, 103; Augustine's con-
ception of, 133, 134, 135, 138, 140;
incomprehensible, 134 ; incorrupti-
bility of, 136, 138, 391; never suffers
evil, 137; the Chief Good, 140; sub-
jection to, our only safety, 145; the
Word, 146, 147; "I AM THAT I AM,"
150; hope and joy in Him alone,
218, 249, 265; searchings after, 223-
225; the Creator, 278; the mercy of,
INDEX
407
God (cont'd)
in conveying His truth by symbols,
361.
Gods, why the poets attributed wick-
edness to the, 20; Homer transfers
things human to the, 21.
Gold of Egypt, 148, 149, 157.
Good, the Manichaeans taught that
good and evil Were primeval, and
had independent existence, 384; all,
is from God, 74; Augustine's con-
ception of the chief, 78, 140; God
our Supreme, 82, 244; God saw that
everything in creation was, 374, 375.
Grammar, the Christians forbidden by
Julian to teach, 169.
Grammar schools, entrances of, cov-
ered with veils, 17.
Great, joy in the conversion of the,
169.
Greek, Augustine's dislike to, 16; the
reason of his dislike, 18; his knowl-
edge of, 393; eloquence, Hierius'
knowledge of, 76.
Greeks, led to Christ by philosophy,
393-
Grief, Augustine's, at the death of
his friend, 66-68; at his mother's
death, 211-214; effect of time on,
69; silence a good consoler in, 202,
397; at the death of friends natu-
ral, 397-
HABITS, evil, bind like iron, 170; con-
viction powerless against, 171.
Happiness, Christianity gives the
golden key to, 385; knowledge of
God the highest, 88; whence comes
true, 176; not joy merely, but joy
in God, 247.
Happy life, longings after the, 241-
245; to be found in God only, 244.
Harts of the Forests, 275.
"Hearers" or catechumens, privileges
of the, 384.
Heaven, rest in, 381 ; the double, 306 ;
the third, 306 ; fulness of reward in,
385; and earth shall pass away, but
not the Word, 3545 the peace of,
381.
Heaven and earth, different interpre-
tations of, 322.
Heavenly bodies, motions of the, not
time, 294-296.
Hebrew, Augustine had no knowledge
of, 276.
Hedonists, their "good" is their own
pleasure, 384.
Helpidius, disputes with the Manichae-
ans, 101.
Heresies confirm the truth, 157. .
Hierius, a native of Syria, an orator
of Rome, 75; Augustine dedicates
his books on the "Fair and Fit" to,
75.
Hippocrates, Vindicianus early under-
stood, 63.
Holy Spirit, why spoken of in Genesis
as "borne over," 344; brings us to
God, 344, 345-
Homer, distasteful to Augustine be-
cause it was Greek, 18; fictions of,
20.
Hope, we are saved and made happy
by, 385 ; all, is in the mercy of God,
249.
Hope and joy in God alone, 218.
Horace, quotation from, 68.
Horoscope-casters, Vindicianus begs
Augustine to throw away the books
of the, 63.
Hortensius f Cicero's, Augustine's study
of, 45; he is stimulated to wisdom
thereby, 176, 393-
Hour-glasses of Augustine's time, 274.
Human life a distraction, 302.
Humanity of Christ, Augustine thinks
it profane to believe in the, 101.
Humiliation of Christ for us, 74.
Humility, childhood the emblem of,
25; the holy, of Scripture, 114.
Hyle or matter, the evil principle of
the Manichaeans, 385.
ILLUMINATION, the washing of bap-
tism, 39$.
Importunity, Monica's, to the bishop,
58.
Incarnation of Christ, a mystery to
Porphyry, 270.
408
INDEX
Infancy, waywardness in, 7, 9; prone
to sin, 8-10; its innocence is not in
its will, but in its weakness, 9.
Injury man does himself by sin, 386.
Intuitionists, their "good" lies in fol-
lowing the dictates of conscience,
384-
JACOB and Esau, illustration concern-
ing, 144.
Jerome, his knowledge of Hebrew,
276.
Jerusalem, Augustine longs for the
heavenly, 320.
Jews, the, their influence on Neo-Pla-
tonism, 395.
Jove, 21.
Joy, true, to be found in the Creator
only, 36; true and false, 116; source
of true, 116, 244; in proportion to
past fear, 167, 168; in the conver-
sion of the great, 168; and hope, in
God alone, 218.
Julian, the Emperor, forbade the
Christians to teach grammar and
oratory, 170.
Justin Martyr, 393; how converts
were received in his time, 395.
Justina, persecution of Ambrose by,
KNOWLEDGE of God, i; the highest
happiness, 88; wonderful, 303, 304.
Knowledge, human, more sought than
divine, 23, 24; curiosity affects a de-
sire for, 36; Augustine's desire for,
made him join the Manichaeans,
384; not to be an end, 260; received
by sight, 365; difference between
that and divine, 382.
LATIN, Augustine's love of, 16, 19.
Law of God, the same in itself, but
different in application, 51, 52; of
development in Scripture, 51; and
custom, 94.
Laws, human, to be obeyed, 53, 54;
God to be obeyed in, or contrary to
laws, 53, 54, 56.
Learning, rudiments of, distasteful to
Augustine, 16; curiosity a help to,
19; vanity of, 22; knowledge of
God to be appreciated above secu-
lar, 88; to be preferred to money,
and God to it, 103.
Liberal arts and sciences, 60, 81, 85;
Faustus had no knowledge of the,
90, 91.
Life, seeking for the blessed, 71 ; Christ
our very, 74; longing after the
blessed, 241-245; the misery of hu-
man, 248.
Light, God the true, 79, 258; and
darkness, 149, 392; God the un-
changeable, 155; that seen by To-
bias, 258 ; that seen by Isaac and by
Jacob, 258; the fountain of, 268;
what Augustine understood by the
Word in Genesis i. 3, 342.
Little things, the power of, 203, 397.
A<?7os, the, 393.
Lord's Supper. See Eucharist.
Love, God should be our highest, 70;
love not to be condemned, but love
in God is to be preferred, 73 ; of the
beautiful, 75; of the world, 83;
what it is to love God, 223; of
praise, 263, 264.
Loving God purely, 62.
Lust of the flesh, the, continency
from, 249; eating and drinking a,
251-254; of the eyes, curiosity stim-
ulated by the, 259, 260.
MADATTRA, formerly an episcopal city,
now a village Augustine learnt
grammar and rhetoric there, 29.
Man, moved by God to delight in
praising Him, i; his existence from
God, 2; made in God's image, 51;
a great deep, 76; injures himself,
not God, by sin, 386; Christ as,
147; the Mediator between God
and, 155; Christ a perfect, 157;
knoweth not himself, 223; God does
not need, although He created him,
340, 343 J faint signs of the Trinity
in* 348, 399 how Augustine inter-
prets the dominion of, over the
INDEX
409
Man (cont'd)
beasts, 364; is renewed in the
knowledge of God after His image,
364; knoweth nothing but by the
Spirit of God, 377; on the creation
of, 378; difference between his
knowledge and God's, 382.
Manichaeans, their materialistic views
of God, 79, 99; Augustine falls into
the errors of the, 47; their system
peculiarly enthralling to an ardent
mind like Augustine's, 383; kindred
in many ways to modern Ration-
alism, 383; Augustine attacks their
notions concerning evil, 50; cavillings
of the, 50, 101, 114, 282, 283, 303;
their doctrine concerning good and
evil, 384, 385; their delusions con-
cerning the fig-tree, 56 ; their reason
for refusing to give bread to any
but their own sect, 56, 60, 384;
their notion concerning the soul,
385, 386; when opposed, they pre-
tended the Scriptures had been cor-
rupted, 102; their false and seduc-
ing continency, 119, 389; delusions
of the, 391; Augustine's anger
against the, 194; Augustine refutes
their opinions as to the origin of
the world, 376.
Manichaeanism, cannot satisfy, 49; a
strange mixture of the pensive phi-
losophy of Persia with Gnosticism
and Christianity, 384.
Manichaeus asserted that the Holy
Ghost was personally resident in
him, 89; asceticism of his followers,
397-
Manna, meaning of, 383.
Marriage, Augustine desires, but his
parents oppose it, 32.
Mars, 164.
Martyrs, honour done to the, 107;
two of the, buried in the Ambro-
sian Basilica, 200.
Materialists, the, seek the common
"good" of all, 384-
Mathematicians used no sacrifices in
their divinations, 62; they drew
their figures in dust or sand, 385.
Matter, or Hyle, the evil principle
according to Faustus, 385; the Pla-
tonic theory concerning, 385; God
did not create the world from,, but
by His word, 277, 278; the world
not created out of, but by God's
word, 278; Augustine's old notion
as to, 307, 308; not created out of
God's substance, 309; Augustine dis-
cusses whether it was from eternity
or was made by God, 326, 327.
Medea, 49.
Mediator, Christ the, 163; God and
man, 270.
Memory, nature and power of, 227,
236, 237; privation of, is forget-
fulness, 236, 237; God cannot be
attained unto by the power of;
possessed by beasts and birds, 238,
239; mamfoldness of, 238-242, 268;
God dwells in the, 246.
Mercy, and misery, 42; of God, all
hope is in the, 249.
Milan, Augustine is sent to teach
rhetoric at, 103 ; he recites his pane-
gyric to the Emperor at, 389;
Church hymns and psalms first in-
troduced at, 200.
Mind, Augustine turns his attention to
the nature of the, 78; commands
the body, 179, 180; Augustine re-
futes the Manichaean notion of two
kinds of, 180, 181; four perturba-
tions of the, 234; time the impres-
sion of things on the; future and
past things in relation to the, 301.
Minerva, 164.
Ministers, how they should work, 362.
Miracles, wrought in behalf of Am-
brose, 200; necessary to some igno-
rant men, 374.
Misery of the angels and their former
excellence, 346.
Moderation in eating and drinking,
251, 252.
Monachism, Antony the founder of,
173, 396.
Monad and Buad, 78, 385.
Money, learning to be preferred to,
103.
INDEX
Monica, the mother of Augustine, her
obedience to her husband, 15 ; her
dream concerning her son's conver-
sion, 57; the wooden rule therein
symbolical of the rule of faith, 57;
her anxiety about her son; she goes
to consult a certain bishop, 58; how
her prayers for her son were an-
swered, 57, 96; her son deceives
her, 95; her sorrow at his decep-
tion, 96; she never failed to make
oblations at God's altar twice a
dlay, 98; object of her prayers, 98;
her visions, 57, 98; she follows
her son over sea and land, and en-
courages the sailors in danger, 106;
her confidence that she could not
die without seeing her son a Catho-
lic Christian, 107; her love for
and her obedience to Ambrose, 107,
109; she gives up making offerings
at the oratories, 108; she urges her
son to marry, and chooses a wife
for him, 129; early training and life
of, 202, 204; her youthful love of
wine, 202 ; how cured of it, 203 ;
her conduct as a wife, 204, 205; her
peace-making and endurance, 205;
she gains her husband to God, 206;
her death draws near, 208; her last
conversation with her son, 207-209;
her death at Ostia, 209-211.
Monophysites still turn to the west in
renouncing Satan, 395.
Moon, sun and, Manichsean belief as
to the, 48; its falsity, 89, 92; the
natural man and the, 358.
Morality of the Manichaeans, 119.
Morals, authority and, 53.
Mortality, skins the emblem of, 156,
352.
Mortification, pain better than, 131.
Moses, what he meant in book of
Genesis, 332; he is supposed to have
perceived all the truth in its words,
338.
Mountain of milk and curds, 192.
Mountains of God, Augustine's inter-
pretation of the, 342.
Music, church, effect of, on Augustine,
255, 256.
Mysteries, of Scripture, God's reason
for the, 383; the mystery and sim-
plicity of Scripture, 47, 114; well-
regulated minds do not seek to pry
into the, 348; of God can be re-
vealed by Him alone, 382.
NATURES, the two, 181, 182.
Nebridius, a goodly youth, Augus-
tine's friend, 64, 141, 192; he left
Carthage for Milan to be near Au-
gustine, 124; tried to dissuade
Augustine from belief in the as-
trologers, 64, 141; his argument
against Manichaeanism, 135; con-
sented to teach under Verecundus;
his humility, 172; dies in Africa
after the conversion of his house-
hold, 192.
Neo-Platonism, Aristotle and Zeno
prepared the way for, 387; Ame-
lius developed and formulated, 392 ;
doctrine of, as to the "Word," 393.
Neptune, 164.
New Testament, adversity the blessing
of the, 385.
OBEDIENCE to teachers enjoined, n;
to princes, 53 ; to God, in or against
human laws, necessary, 53, 54, 56.
Oblations, Monica made them twice
a day, 98.
Odours, the attraction of, 255.
Oil of sinners, 266.
Old Testament, its histories, typical
and allegorical, 384; prosperity the
blessing of the, 385.
Omnipresence of God, 2.
Onesiphorus, hospitality of, 371.
Oratories, in memory of Cyprian, 96;
in memory of the saints and mar-
tyrs, 266; offerings at the, forbid-
den by Ambrose and afterwards by
Augustine; Monica discontinues
hers, 108.
Oratory, undue appreciation o^, 23;
the Christians forbidden by Julian
to teach, 169.
INDEX
411
Orestes and Pykdes, 67.
Origan's knowledge of Hebrew, 276.
Origin, of evil, 139, 140, 144, 145; of
the world, the Manichaean notion
concerning the, 376.
Ostia, Augustine and his mother stay
at, 207; she dies at, and is buried
there, 209-211.
Ovid, quotations from, 68.
PACHOMIUS, the good done by the
monks of, 396.
Pain, spiritual and physical, better
than mortification, 131.
Paraclete, the, of the Manichaeans, 47;
Manichaeus asserted that He was
personally resident in him, 89; the,
the Spirit of Truth, 195.
Paradise, allegorized by some, 387.
Parents, make light of the childish
troubles of their offspring, 12; am-
bition for their children's progress
often injudicious, 14,
Past and future, in the, there is time,
288, 289; they exist only in the soul,
291.
Patriarchs, actions of the, prophetic,
53, 384.
Patricius, the father of Augustine, a
poor freeman of Thagaste, he was
only a catechumen when his son
was in his sixteenth year, 30; he
dies when Augustine is sixteen, 46;
was at first unkind to his wife, but
was melted by her enduring meek-
ness, etc., 204, 205; is gained over
to God by her, 206.
Paul, St., Augustine studies the writ-
ings of, 158; conversion of, 169;
his rejoicing at the good works of
the Philippians, 372.
Paul of Thebais, asceticism of, 396.
Pelagius and the bishop, dispute be-
tween, 253.
Phantasies, unreality of, 49; poetical
fictions less dangerous than, 49, 50.
Phantasm, Augustine thinks of God as
a, 66 ; and of Christ also, 100, 101 ;
Augustine ceases to look upon God
as a, 154.
Philo, the Therapeutae of, 396.
Philosophy, made the beginning of
Augustine's conversion, 45; in
Greek, the love of wisdom is called,
46; the various schools of, 384;
revelation alone can reconcile the
different systems of, 385; the aca-
demic and other schools of, 387;
led the Greeks to Christ, 393 ; Au-
gustine's opinion of the various
schools of, 393; Plato's, the near-
est to Christ, 175.
Photinus, heresy of, 157.
Piety, confession to God is, 88.
Plato, dogmatic and sceptical sides
of his philosophy, 387; doctrine of,
in connection with Christianity, 1.58,
392 ; much in Platonism in common
with asceticism, 396.
Platonic theory of matter, 385.
I latonists, Augustine studies the books
of the, probably those of Amelius,
146, 392.
Pleasures, carnal, the beasts of the
field symbolical of, 87.
Plotinus, theories of, 146, 393.
Poetry, classical, evils of, 16-23.
Pompey, the ruse of, 398.
Pontitianus, a countryman of Augus-
tine's, 173; his delight at finding
Augustine reading St. Paul's writ-
ings; he relates to him the history
of Antony, 173.
Praise, God worthy of, i; Augustine
begins his book with, i; man de-
sires to praise God, i, 83; God's, is
inexhaustible, i, 4; love of worldly,
76, 263, 265; sometimes not to be
avoided, 266.
Prayers, God's answer to Monica's,
57; how He answered them, 96;
Augustine's faith strengthened by
answer to, 197; for the dead, 212,
217.
Preaching, leads to faith, 2.
Pride, Augustine errs through, 77, 78,
80; temptation of, 262.
Priority of origin illustrated, 33$.
Prodigal son, the, allusions to, 33, 49,
Si.
412
INDEX
Progress, the law of, in Scripture, 51.
Prosperity the blessing of the Old
Testament, adversity of the New,
385.
Providence of God, 5.
Psalms and hymns first sung in
church at Milan, 199.
Psaltery of ten strings, 54.
Punishment of sin, 71, 386; the ab-
sence of free-will a, 179, 180.
Purgatory, prayers for the dead im-
ply a belief in, 398.
Pylades and Orestes, 67.
Pyrrhonists, doctrine of the, 386.
RATICKNTAJLISM, modern, Manichasan
system kindred to, 383.
Reason, the Manichseans exalted it
at the expense of faith, 383; and
faith, 113; leads us to a belief
in the necessity of eternity, 399-
Reddere, used of the creed, 395,
Regeneration, necessary before receiv-
ing the Eucharist, 395.
Rest, true, in God alone, i, 36, 4<>>
74; God ever worketh and yet is
always at rest, 381, 382.
Revelation, can alone reconcile the
difficulties of the various systems of
philosophy, 385.
Rhetoric, Augustine becomes head in
the school of, 45; he teaches it at
Thagaste, 61; then at Carthage, 69;
then at Rome, 94.
Romanianus, a relative of Alypius,
rich and talented, and good to Au-
gustine, 130; Augustine's explana-
tion of his conversion to, 394-
Rome, Augustine's motive for wish-
ing to go to, 94; he leaves, 103.
Rule, the wooden, seen by Monica in
her dream, 575 symbolical of the
Rule of Faith, 187.
SACRAMENT, or mystery, confirmation,
etc., sometimes spoken of by the
Fathers as a, 357, 395-
Sacrifices were used by the sooth-
sayers in their divinations* 62.
Saint, a Manichsean, 384.
Sallust, quotation from, 34.
Salt, seasoning with, on admission as
a catechumen, 19.
Satan, renunciation of, before baptism,
165.
Schools, Augustine disapproves of the
method of instruction in, 20, 21,
22; the different, of philosophy,
etc., 146.
Science does not. lead to God, 85, 86.
Sciences called "liberal," 60; Augus-
tine read the books concerning, un-
aided, 8 1 ; Faustus was reputed to
be skilled in, 85; but had no real
knowledge of them, 90, 91, 92.
Scripture, God's reason for the mys-
teries in, 383; veiled in mysteries,
47, 114; Manichaeans tried to de-
prive it of all authority, 383 ; the law
of progress in, 51; what they cen-
sured in the, 101; Ambrose ex-
pounded the, every Lord's day, no;
"letter" of, 387; types in, 388;
Manichsean cavillings at, 114; au-
thority of, 114; plainness and
depth of, 114; Augustine rejoices
that he studied Plato before, and
not the reverse, 158, 159; Augus-
tine entreats of God that he may
be led to the truth through the
study of, 274-276, 311, 312; the
Hebrew and Greek, 276; awful
depth of, 316; truth to be seen in,
but not by all, 323, 324.
Sea, allegorical explanation of the,
355-
Security, false, 255.
Self-deception, Augustine's, 175, 176.
Self-love and pride the sources of sin,
55-
Shame, false, 23, 31.
Sight, the allurements of, 257; knowl-
edge received by, 366.
Silence, a consoler in grief, 397.
Simplicianus, Augustine consults him
about the renewing of his mind,
162, 163; his skill, 164; his uncom-
promisingness, 165.
INDEX
413
Sin, in infancy, 5, 9J original, 5, 9;
the Manichseans denied, 97, 385,
386; guilt of, after baptism greater
than before, 14; our motives to, 34,
36; love of, for the sin's sake, 37;
self-love and pride the sources of,
55; its own punishment, 71, 386;
the absence of free-will the punish-
ment of former sin, 179, 180; for-
giveness of, after baptism, 214.
Sinners cannot escape God, 84; injure
themselves, not God, 386.
Skins, Augustine makes, the emblems
of mortality, 156.
Solomon, the enigma of, 50.
Son, the prodigal, 23.
Soothsayer, the, promises Augustine
victory on certain conditions which
he despises, 61, 62.
Sorrow, effect of time and consola-
tions of friends on, 69; effect of
silence in, 397.
Soul, Augustine fancied that he and
Nebridius had only one soul between
them, 68; invocation to it to return
to God, 71, 72; the Manichaean
notion concerning the, 385; sight or
eye of the, 112.
Sozomen's account of the origin of
Monachism, 396.
Spirit, the letter and the, of Scrip-
ture, 112, 386; gifts of the, 357- !
Stage-plays, Augustine's love of, 42.
Stars, knowledge of the, etc., 85-88;
Manichaean teaching as to the,
false, 89; the catechumen to be con-
tent with the light of the moon and
the, 37i, 4oo.
Study, Augustine's distaste for, in boy-
hood, 15; Ambrose in his, no. j
Substance, corporeal, Augustine's idea
of God as a, 133, *34> *3S, *36;
God's substance incorruptible, 138?
evil not a, 151; the two sub-
stances, 152; Augustine thinks of
God as an incorruptible, 161; mat-
ter not created out of God's, 310.
V'Ubverters, Augustine delighted in
their friendship, although he ab-
horred their acts, 45; the name of
Subverters (cont'd)
a pestilent and licentious set of per-
sons, also termed Ever sores, 45.
Sun, the Christian should always as-
pire to look at the, 357; when able
to do so, 357.
Sun and moon, Manichaean belief as
to the, 48 ; proved false, 89, 92 ; in-
fluence of the, 392.
Symbols, God's goodness in convey-
ing His truth by, 361.
Symmachus the prefect sends Augus-
tine to Milan, 103.
Sympathy, real and false, 17, 42, 43.
44-
Syria, Hierius a native of, 76.
TABLETS, matrimonial, 203.
Tears, why sweet to the unhappy, 66,
67-
Telemachus the monk sacrificed his
life to put an end to the circus
fights, 391.
Temptation, life a, 249.
Terence, Eunuchtts of, 21.
Testament, the Old and New, 385.
Thagaste, Augustine's father a poor
freeman of, 30; Augustine taught
rhetoric there, 61; it was there Au-
gustine met Nebridius, 64; Augus-
tine leaves to go to Carthage, 69;
the birthplace of Alypius, 117.
Thebes, Antony a native of; Paul, the
hermit of, 396.
Theft, Augustine commits, from his
parents' table, 24; and later, he
steals not from poverty, but the
love of wrong-doing, 32, 35-39; in-
nocent Alypius is apprehended far,
122.
Therapeutae of Philo, the, 396.
Time, effect of, on grief, 69; God
speaks to us in, 279, 280; has no
relation to eternity, 283; itself a
creature, therefore not before crea-
tion, 283, 284; what is, 285,
286; present, not long, 286-288;
cannot be measured, 288, 298, 209,
300; nevertheless, there is past and
future, 288, 289; motions of the
INDEX
Time (cont'd)
heavenly bodies not, 294-296; of
what is it the protraction, 296, 297;
the impression of things on the
mind, 300; Augustine argues that it
and the world had one beginning,
304; has no relation to God and
His Word, 375-
Titus, amphitheatre of, 389.
Tobias, the light seen by, 258.
Toothache, Augustine suffers from,
197.
Triers, the monastery at, 174.
Trinity, the doctrine of the, conveyed
in creation, 343, 344; types of, in
man, 348, 349, 399 ; mystery of the
doctrine of the, 399 ; illustrations of
the, 400.
Trouble, effect of time on, 69.
Truth, Augustine's desire and longing
for, 47, 48; the Manichseans abused
the word truth, 48; God is, 48, 71,
87, 244, 246, 330; Augustine's de-
spair of finding the, 100; heresies
confirm, 157; joy in the, 244; he
who finds, finds God, 246; Augus-
tine begs that God will lead him to
the, through the Scriptures, 274-
276; wisdom and, 281; the discov-
ery of, difficult, 305; to be seen in
Scripture, but not by all, 323.
Tully, Augustine -at one time thought
the Holy Scriptures not to be com-
pared in dignity to, 47 ; orations of,
92.
Types in Scripture, 388; of the Trin-
ity in man, 348, 349.
UNIVERSE, beauty of the, 386.
, conversion of, 164.
WAX, writing on, 197.
Way, Christ the, 161.
Weeping, why sweet to the unhappy,
66, 67.
West, custom of turning to the, 395.
Wife, Monica fears that a, would
prove an encumbrance to her son,
32; but afterwards seeks for one
for him, 129.
Will, evil a perversion of the, 154;
feebleness of, 180; conflict in the,
180-183; of God is eternal, 316, 317.
Wine-bibbing, Ambrose forbids it at
oratories, 108; Monica's, in her
youth, 202; how cured, 203.
Wisdom, Augustine's love of, 46, 47,
125; the love of, called philosophy
in Greek, 46; God enjoins man to
behold, 88 ; Augustine stimulated to
the love of, by Cicero's Hortensius,
393; and truth, 281; of God eternal,
317, 318; the word of, given by the
Spirit, 357-
Wit, Augustine's, a snare to him, 82.
Woman, creation of, 379.
Wood, the cross called a ship of, 20.
Word, made flesh, 146, 147, 156, 158,
271* 393; God the, 146, 147; Christ
the, 156; God created the world by
His, 2773 278; God speaks to us
eternally in His, 279, 280; the be-
ginning of all things, 280; happi-
ness of the spiritual creature to be
found only in the, 341; the firma-
ment the type of the, 352; heaven
and earth shall pass away, but
not the, 334.
Word of God, eternal, 72, 136, 391.
Words and ideas, n.
World, the things of this, are fleeting,
72, 73; love of the, 83; the sea
likened to the wicked, 355; the
Manichaean and Gnostic opinion as
to the origin of the, 376; the, was
created out of nothing, 379.
ZENO and aristotle prepared the way
for Neo-Platonism, 387,
1 24 727
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